


Jude's Orange

by aleria



Category: Samaria - Sharon Shinn
Genre: Angels, Fluff, Later Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5628850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleria/pseuds/aleria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A silly little love story about a young man and an angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jude's Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original story set in the world of Samaria created by Sharon Shinn. Out of all the books written (which I love) and all of the many love stories, there was no mention of any queer relationships at all. I thought I might try to remedy that, in my own amateur-writing way. 
> 
> This takes place sometime after _Angel-Seeker_ , but before _Jovah's Angel_. It is not necessary to have read any of the books to read this fic, but it is recommended. Angels are rare, powerful beings who possess the ability to 'pray' to the god Jovah in order to receive medicine, change the weather, or call down lightning. Thus, they rule over mortals. The world of Samaria is split into three provinces, each ruled by an angel hold. The entire of Samaria is ruled by the Archangel, who is chosen by Jovah. This particular story takes place in the province of Gaza.
> 
> **Aug 2016: I finally finished it, Jovah help me. But is anyone actually waiting for chapters? What a beast.**

Jude pumped his wings against the wind and the rain and hated every moment of it. The rain was coming on an angle: straight into his face, as far as he could tell. The winds were unpredictable, rushing in from the west one moment then suddenly blasting upwards and knocking him off his course. So far none of these conditions had been enough to be a danger to his flying, but the young angel knew his limits, and he was drawing towards them.

He had protested as much to Archangel Herod that morning. The tall, imposing red-headed angel who had been named Archangel only earlier that year was as unyielding as an oak tree. He was a largely unemotional man, showing his heart sparingly. Jude had never seen him smile, even to his wife, the angelica.

“I’m not a strong flier,” Jude finally admitted after beating around the bush for five minutes. Herod’s wide face did not alter in any way at this admission. Jude pressed on, feeling embarrassed. Somehow he knew none of this was getting through to the older angel. “Sunshine, medicine, messages--” he went on, almost desperately. “Not storms… please!”

The Archangel paused until Jude was finished speaking. When he spoke he sounded just how an old oak tree would sound. “Jude, you are no longer a child,” came his deep, steady voice. “I have seen you fly and there has never been a doubt in my mind of your capabilities.”

“But--” Jude went to say.

“Do not interrupt me,” boomed Herod. He had a voice full of depth and power. He could silence an entire room with that voice. It almost made Jude step back in fear. And he was right-- Jude was no longer a child. At 19 years old, he was full grown, though he could not boast the height nor wingspan of the mighty Archangel.

“You are not being asked to fly to the coast-- the trip is merely a few hours. You will have plenty of strength to battle the storm.” He turned back to his book, a huge tome that seemed to contain nothing but lists.

Jude was at a loss of words. No one questioned the Archangel-- not because he was entirely dependable, but because the large angel was intimidating. Everyone: Jansai traders, Manadavvi landowners, even other angels-- were afraid of the man. Somehow without being cruel or unjust, he still kept him citizens in line through fear.

Truthfully, Jude wasn’t sure the Archangel had even yelled at anyone, let alone unleash the god’s wrath. If the day ever came that someone forced his hand, the younger angel hoped to be on the other side of Samaria

And so without another word, Jude resigned himself to the wet, uncomfortable journey to Manadavvi where he would perform a weather intercession. Rain was not uncommon during these early spring months in the Manadavvi lands, but the ocean storms threatened the early crops, forcing the wealthy landowners to seek the Archangel’s help. The angels, after all, had the unique gift of being able to bring the petitions of mortals to the ears of Jovah. This time it was Jude’s job to speak with the god.

As he flew, Jude thought ruefully of the clear blue skies and dazzling sun that lay just above the cloud cover. He would have happily  flown there had Herod not strictly reminded him that it was plague season. From this low he would be able to spot the white flags that villages and farm hoisted to ask passing angels for help. Of course, by the time Jude arrived he hadn’t seen a single one. That was his luck.

The perimeter of the Manadavvi estate was marked by meticulous lines of fruit trees that Jude could not identify. From the way they blew violently in the wind, it was no wonder the landowners wanted the storms to end. Beyond the orchard were the small houses for the workers, the windows lit up with a warm glow that made Jude envious. He continued, however, over the wide expanse of grass and a little lake which swelled and surged in the wind.

The manor itself was a large building-- not the largest by Manadavvi standards, but ten times the size of the largest village dwelling. It had been even built with a wide, flat terrace common to these mansions, to welcome angels landing for pleasure or business. Jude banked a bit awkwardly in the wind and made his way to the flat stone. He landed badly, his leather shoes slipping and he only just caught himself before he was approached by a servant holding a parasol.

“This way, please,” said the woman who didn’t seem at all perturbed by Jude’s bedraggled appearance. He was led through large, glass doors and into a hallway where he paused to shake out his wings. A shower of droplets rained onto the Lumineux-made carpet and Jude looked to the servant with an apologetic grin. She pressed her lips together in annoyance but said nothing as she continued to lead the angel down the hall.

Jude had been in a other Manadavvi manors before, usually with a group of Monteverde angels like himself. They were invited to dinners on occasion and Orpha, wife of the Archangel, liked to bring lots of young angels to keep things lively. She was, of course, the complete opposite of her stoic, serious husband. Most of the manors were bigger than this one-- with rambling lands that never seemed to end. The parties were stuffed with luxuries and expenses, which Jude didn’t mind, and intrigues, secrets and politics, which Jude  _ did  _ mind. 

This manor struck Jude as different. It took him the length of the hall to realize what was strange about it. It felt like he was watching a performance, where the scenery was hastily erected and the props thoughtless. There was certainly examples of wealth and beauty-- paintings and hangings on the walls, handcrafted furniture to rest on, and pretty gaslights to light the way. However, nothing matched and everything seemed to be so  _ new. _

Lord Moses Tendler looked just as any Manadavvi man should-- dressed in finery with the hint of having eaten too many rich foods. He looked as though he had been handsome in his youth, and his posture and body language suggested he still believed he was. He turned away from his many guests when Jude entered and rose from his seat. He approached the angel with open arms.

“Angelo, please,” said Moses with a beaming smile. “You are most welcome here!”

“Lord Moses,” Jude said, offered a polite bow as he had been taught. “I am Jude, sent by Archangel Herod. I am at your service.” He tried to keep sarcasm out of his face and tone and wondered if Moses didn’t look fooled by his charade.

“Jude, is it,” he shook the angel’s hand before it was even offered, catching Jude off guard. It was not normal Manadavvi etiquette to shake a man’s hand. Moses seemed to catch Jude’s surprised look and quickly retracted the hand.

“My brother, Jacob,” he said smoothly, not missing a beat. A slender man who looked nothing like Moses stepped forward but offered no civility. “And my son, Silas.” A young man, perhaps Jude’s age, pulled his attention away from a pretty girl who sat beside him. With grace he stood and crossed the room. He was what Jude imagined Moses might have looked like years ago-- dark-haired, handsome and extremely aware of it.

“Angelo,” offered Silas with a much more appropriate nodding of the head than his father had offered. “We are pleased you came so soon.” He smiled the same smile of a hundred other Manadavvi men who had an ulterior motive.  _ That is the way with these men _ , Jude reflected,  _ everything is politics and social jousting.  _ He smiled back and tried to look pleased.

“Will you sit and take something to eat?” Moses asked, though such a thing was clearly impossible with Jude dripping on the carpet. 

“No, thank you,” Jude said as sincerely as he could muster. “I believe I will perform the intercession first. I do not wish to keep your workers waiting longer than they must.”

“Yes, of course!” said Moses, clapping the angel on the shoulder. Jude could have sworn he saw the son roll his eyes and the brother shift uncomfortably. Strangely, the familiarity made Jude want to like the man.

They walked back towards the terrace entrance while Jude asked the basic questions for his task: What direction does the wind usually blow? How many days of sun do you expect? What of the temperature? Many of these questions he knew the answer to, his home in Monteverde not being so far from the coast. However these standard questions avoided an awkward silence. After the predictable answers given by Moses, Jude strode back onto the terrace into the rain and launched himself back into the storm.

Jovah’s breath, it was a bad one. Somehow the winds were even more unpredictable than they had been when Jude arrived. He drove his wings down hard to gain altitude, aiming for that calm place above the storm. When making prayers to the god, an angel sought to be as close to the ears of Jovah as they could. Jude fought the storm to gain altitude before beginning, but he could feel himself losing the battle. He had never been the strongest flier-- he had said as much to Herod. A change of direction from the wind caught Jude off guard and he fought to stay the course, and even to stay alloft. He put all of his concentration in pumping his wings towards the sky.

Another suddenly a gust caught Jude under his left wing and set him spinning. Disoriented, he tried to right himself but the wind was unrelenting, as if it was playing with him. No longer in control, he was forced down-- ten, twenty, fifty feet. He caught himself some thirty feet above the terrace, driving his wings harder than he ever had before. He tried one more time to gain some--  _ any _ \-- altitude but the storm had other plans. 

This time it was a gust from the right, catching him under the wing like a blow from a bull. He was slammed into the side of the manor, hard enough to crack his head on the unyielding stonework. His vision faltered and he felt his body slack. Suddenly he was aware of falling and a lurch of terror caused him to cry out before landing hard on something below.

The rain was falling on his face as he blinked madly to keep himself awake and aware. There were voices rising over the sounds of the storm and the servant ran over with the parasole. Her face appeared above Jude, her mouth in a large ‘O’ of surprise. Hands were gripping him so tight it hurt-- one on his arm and another on in the inside of his leg. All of a sudden Jude was aware of the body underneath his wings and struggled to roll off and onto the wet stone. 

The son of Moses, Silas Tendler, looked as surprised as Jude felt, but released his hold on the angel and put a hand to the back of his head with a wince. “Damned  _ heavy _ ,” he exclaimed through the rain. His uncle was there in a flash, putting an arm under his nephew to pull him to his feet. Another set of arms helped Jude, but he didn’t not see who it was. He was too busy staring at the Manadavvi boy.

“You  _ caught _ me,” he all but yelled. Everyone looked ready to get out of the rain and recover from the incident, but Jude stood stock still. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” answered Silas and he added that characteristic Manadavvi smile.

 

\------------

 

The rest of Jude’s time with Moses and his family had been unbearable. The women, who were mostly cousins, were characteristically hysterical, no doubt putting on a show so that it would not be so crass when they later took to gossiping about the incident. The servants fussed over the angel and Silas, tending injuries that Jude knew were being exaggerated. The older Tendler men wasted no time in singing Silas’ praise, calling his actions ‘heroic’ and ‘selfless’.

Jude watched Silas where he sat, while one of the girls put on a look of real concern and adoration at his elbow. The angel had met many of the Manadavvi over the years that he grew up in the angel hold of Monteverde. They were well-dressed and high-class, ruling over the serfs of Gaza and dealing often with the angels. Not one of those Manadavvi he met ever did anything without an ulterior motive. It was not always for monetary gain-- they sought power, political ties, trade agreements, favours, marriage transactions and the means to overcome their rivals. He had never known a Manadavvi to be selfless.

“I did what anyone would have done,” Silas was saying to the girl in a perfectly humble tone. “I am no hero.” The girl giggled and sighed, putting a gentle hand on the young man’s shoulder and then quickly withdrawing it when she realized he was soaked through. Jude barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

The moment the winds seems to have died down Jude determinately, and against the protests of everyone at the manor, headed back outside to perform his intercession. The sooner he could clear the rain away, the sooner he could fly home and away from this whole debacle. Though most of the party waited inside the doorway, unwilling to get wet, Jude was aware of Silas following him, no doubt expecting to have to catch him again. Jude shivered as he imagined just how much more mortifying that would be.

Despite the pounding on the side of his temple, Jude rose easily against the downpour. Though the wind had almost completely died down, he still flew cautiously, waiting for a rogue gust to knock him off target. Finally, he felt himself pass through the clouds, which were low over the house. He burst into the brilliance of the sun and almost sighed. It still rained here, but the storm would not interrupt him.

He leaned his head back and began to sing. Jude may not have been a very strong flier, but he fancied himself a  _ very  _ strong singer. His sweet tenor had survived the awkwardness of puberty and he had emerged with a vocal range that challenged most other angels he sang with. All angels were born with beautiful voices, but some were finer than others, or so he was told. It was his only real point of pride. He knew that Jovah agreed, because he always listened and responded quickly to Jude’s prayer.

The prayer for sunshine was simple and one of the first songs a young angel learned. Jude had sung it many times but he never grew tired of it. His voice rose and fell through the words which he embellished with unnecessary half notes in different octaves. He could sense his voice rising like the smoke from a stick of sweet incense, curling towards the ears of the god. After the first few lines, the rain stopped completely. After the first two verses, he could feel the air currents subtly luring the clouds away from the land. As they dispersed, Jude was vaguely aware of thin voices rising from the terrace below. He was lower than he thought, but he did not stop singing.

The prayer ended with a little ‘amen’ that he used to climb a few octaves in a show of skill that would have made his music teacher give him lines. He then lowered his eyes to the terrace, where the entire party was standing in the new sunshine with upturned faces.

He landed lightly, trying not to smile proudly. The women were applauding and Moses was striding forward with a smile to shake the angel’s hand again. Almost everyone was in a state of polite jubilation, but when Jude’s gaze eventually fell on Silas, he saw he was not smiling at all.

  
  



	2. Silas' Pride

 

Silas’ family had wasted no time in spreading the news of his heroics to everyone in their acquaintance. Before two days had passed, Betty and Edna, his cousins, along with their silly friends had managed to spread to gossip to every girl they knew. His father, while proud of his son, was far more ecstatic with the opportunity of political maneuvering. 

“But you must remain humble,” he reminded Silas more than once. “We mustn’t appear prideful.” Often this speech came before a dinner with some other rich landowner-- someone his father hoped to trade with, or form an alliance with, or show power in front of. During these dinners the Tendler men put on their best show of humility and selflessness, proclaiming themselves ‘simply men’ who had raised a son who would do what anyone would do.

“But of course,” his father would always add, “we always knew Silas was just as good as his dear mother.” Silas was used to his father mentioning his dead wife, who had passed away too long ago for Silas to remember. She had been rich and powerful and had left her widower and son with a good deal of money, not that they really knew what to do with it. Moses Tendler felt the need to remind everyone often of his marriage to such a rich and well-bred lady.

Silas had no shame in carrying on the charade with the rest of them. The moment he had caught the falling angel he knew that he had been given a rare gift and he was not going to squander it. His story of doing ‘what any man would have done’ was not entirely made-up, for in that frenzied moment when they all thought the angel Jude would fall to his death on the terrace, he had acted instinctively. There had been no thought put into the decision to dash into the rain with his arms out. But the moment he did it he was infinitely glad he had.

Silas had always been a good looking young man. He had always been charming, too, saying whatever young girls wanted to hear. He had no troubles attracting even the most stuck up of Manadavvi women, but now that he was something of a local celebrity, the attentions were overwhelming. Every time they dined with company there seemed to be some new young woman put beside him, watching him with adoring eyes and suggesting, without words, that she was putty in his hands and would do whatever he wanted.

It would not be long, now, before his father and uncle schemed to find him a bride. 

While it may seem to those outside Manadavvi culture that men would chose their own wives, there was almost never an alliance made without politics in mind. The parents of both bride and groom would negotiate and scheme, finding the best match in terms of power and money. The process would take months, but for all Silas knew it was already in the works. So he smiled and charmed any girl his father put next to him, wondering if maybe this one was the one he was going to marry.

While marriage did not tempt Silas at the age of twenty-two, the thrill of the seduction was amusement enough for him. He took the girls to his bed not necessarily for pleasure, but always for the satisfaction of having  _ won _ . His father, if he was aware of what transpired after dark, made no move to stop it. So long as his son eventually settled down and made a good marriage for the Tendler estate.

After two weeks of milking the incident, the Tendler men were given another opportunity to use Silas’ actions for political maneuvering. Moses came striding into the library, where his son was lounging on the couch reading a book. There had been times in Silas’ youth that he was frustrated with his father for interrupting him, calling him out as low-class and idiotic. Eventually Silas came to accept the old man for what he was good for and they became allies, if not family.

“Good news!” the older man exclaimed in his gregarious way. “A letter, from the Archangel himself!” This made Silas sit up. Their family, having risen in the world so recently, was rarely visited by angels, let alone contacted by the Archangel.

“Go on, then,” said Silas, almost impatiently. He offered a smile to soften his tone. It was pointless, because his father’s jubilation couldn’t be daunted by anything.

“He has heard about you saving that angel. What did he say… here it is: ‘ _ It has only recently come to my attention that your son has provided a great service to our hold by saving the life of the angel Jude _ .’ How’s that?!” He looked expectantly to his son. Silas grinned, showing more pride than he would in front of strangers. 

“Wait, there’s more,” Moses went on, unhindered. “He goes on. Something about showing thanks. Here:  _ ‘We would like to invite you and your son to dine with us in Monteverde in a week’s time.’ _ Do you know what that means?” Silas wondered if there was any other way to interpret that sentence, but he allowed his poor father to continue.

“We’re going to the angel hold!” He punched the air with his free fist like a peasant at a wrestling match. “Let’s see how Lord Irvine likes  _ that _ .” He went back to reading the letter again, his smile never faltering.

“I imagine Lord Irvine will be there, father,” said Silas, standing up and taking the letter from his father. He read it over quickly and handed it back. “It’s the Spring Dinner.” Moses responded by opening his mouth in realization. 

Silas sat down again and folded his hands together under his chin. “There will be quite a few landowners there. And angels, of course.” He was thinking fast, faster than his poor father. An invitation to the Spring Dinner was almost as sought after as an invitation to the Gloria which followed a month later. Of course, anyone could attend the Gloria, that sacred gathering of all peoples of Samaria to sing for the god Jovah. To be invited by the Archangel meant you could stand with the occupants of the angel holds and sing along side them. Still: the honour of attending the Spring Dinner would catapult the Tendler family into a status that would rival the most powerful of the Manadavvi families. 

“We must write back at once,” Moses was saying. “I wonder if Jacob would come-- no, no he wasn’t on the invitation.” He continued to mutter as he made his way to his study where he would no doubt write a quick, enthusiastic reply. If there was anything one could say about Silas’ father, it was that he wore his heart on his sleeve. You knew when he was happy, angry or lying. Silas was, of course, the opposite and kept his emotions masked like a good Manadavvi boy.

There was no denying he was excited at the prospect of dining in the angel hold at Monteverde. He had travelled to the city many times, staying in the finest hotels and dining in the finest restaurants, but the angels had always been one step above him and his father. He was the most excited for the chance to try his hand at social maneuvering in that setting. How hard would it be to integrate with the most elite people in the realm? Could he befriend the most powerful men? Could he seduce their women? 

Silas opened his eyes with a start when he made a realization. The hold was full of angels,  _ female _ angels whom were forbidden to mate with their own race. They always sought mortal men to lay with and marry-- so why not Silas Tendler? His heart raced with the prospect. Surely that sort of conquest would please both him and his father! 

He stood up, excitement firing his veins and making him unable to sit still. The injury he had sustained on the back of his head had healed but some of the biggest bruises on his torso-- caused by the angel’s gigantic wings-- still pained him when he stood up as quickly as this.

He put a hand to his ribs, allowing the faint sensation remind him of those voluminous wings. They had been heavy with water but still strangely soft against his skin. He wondered what it might feel like to lay with an angel. He supposed he would have to wait a week before meeting one again.

But, surprisingly, he only had to wait a day.

  
  



	3. Jude's Shame

Jude had managed to keep the secret of his shameful fall to himself for two blissful weeks. He returned from his trip to the hold still wet and extremely grumpy. He must have worn a storm cloud on his face, because he scared the wits out of his best friend, Hester.

“Lord, what have I done now?” she asked when she met him in the hallway. She was an angel as well, the same age as Jude but shorter. She was extremely pretty, with a heart-shaped face and dimples when she smiled. Her strawberry blond hair fell in loose curls around her face and seemed to always catch the sunlight. Jude had known her his whole life.

“Nothing, sorry,” he grunted, allowing her to fall in step beside him. “Just a crummy trip.”

“I always liked going to Manadavvi,” she said lightly, in a way that made Jude want to stop being grumpy. He was, however, determined. “Lord Irvine always receives me so graciously and his strawberries are delicious.” Hester was easily pleased by a lot of things but especially things that came with money. Her mother had been Manadavvi and raised her daughter on a grand estate off the coast. “Did you eat anything while you were there?”

“No,” said Jude, trying to make his answers as short as possible. He was not ready to admit that he had fallen while flying, or that he was caught by another man. “It was really a short trip.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay overnight,” Hester went on, and Jude let her talk aimlessly about her last trips to Manadavvi. She might have seemed to airhead to many others, but she was a sweet girl who didn’t mind putting others before herself. In that way she was so very unlike her mother.

For the next few weeks Jude’s schedule filled up his time and no one attempted to ask him about the routine weather intercession which should have gone flawlessly. He was kept busy with his music lessons, time spent with his friends and the assigned patrols of Gaza where he looked for plague flags and other signs of trouble. The only person who tried to find out what happened was Hulda, a mortal who acted as a healer for the hold.

“And how did you manage this?” she asked as she cleaned the cut above his temple. 

“Bumped my head,” Jude said vaguely, not entirely lying. Hulda hadn’t asked anything else, but Jude was terrified that she would take the news to Herod who might be more convincing in his interrogation. However, Herod did not descend on him until nearly two weeks later.

Jude was at his breakfast when the Archangel approached his table. Everyone at the table-- an angel named Elon, a mortal boy named Cephas and, of course, Hester-- rose to their feet in respect. Herod nodded to them all so that they felt allowed to sit and turned his attention to Jude. The younger angel felt himself shrink in front of the Archangel, but did not sit down.

“Jude, I understand you had an accident in Manadavvi,” he said in his deep voice. Herod was the lowest of baritones that Jude had ever heard. He imagined it was what Jovah would sound like. “Why did you not tell me of this straight away?”

Jude swallowed nervously, but had the words ready. He had practised this speech many times, in case the day would come. “It was not so serious,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster. “I didn’t think the news was important.” He watched a frown cross Herod’s face and he braced himself.

“The news has spread to the other landowners and it seems every Manadavvi knows already how the son of Lord Moses Tendler saved the life of the angel Jude.” He sounded more severe than Jude had ever heard him. He wanted to explain the shame and embarrassment to the older angel, but he knew it would not be excuse enough for Herod.

“I’m sorry, Herod. I should have informed you.”

“But what happened, Jude?!” Hester interrupted, causing a crease to form between Herod’s eyebrows. He replied for the younger angel. “He fell in a storm. The Manadavvi boy caught him just in time. The story has no doubt been embellished, but I believe that is the long and short of it.”

Jude looked guiltily at Herod, but maintained in a small voice: “I was barely cut, ask Hulda.” Herod continued to frown. It was likely he had already spoken to the healer. 

“None-the-less,” Herod went on. “It is necessary to thank the man who aided you. It is embarrassing that we were unable to thank him and his father sooner. I will be inviting them to dine with us at the Spring Dinner.” Jude allowed himself to breathe. He was afraid, for a moment, that he was going to be forced to bring Silas and his father a basket of flowers and beg for their forgiveness.

“However,” Herod was saying and Jude snapped to attention again. “I will have you visit them, Jude, and thank them personally.” 

Jude quickly opened his mouth to protest, but a look from the Archangel forced it shut again. “When should I leave?” he asked miserably.

“Today. The rest of you, I need patrols. See me after you have eaten.” Herod gave Jude one last stern look and then walked away, his giant, white wings sweeping the floor behind him. Only when he was gone did Jude allow himself to sit and get bombarded by questions from his friends.

 

\------------

 

The Tendler household was not prepared for Jude’s arrival, and he liked it that way. He liked seeing the head servant (her name was Mara) scramble to make accommodations, he loved the look of astonishment and panic in Moses’ eye when he announced that he would like to stay for dinner, and he was positively joyous that he had even caught Silas off guard. 

Unfortunately, the family seemed genuinely glad to have him visit, which meant that they intended to use the event as some kind of political move. It was not long before he learned that he would not just be staying for dinner, but for two nights as Moses scrambled to put together a dinner party for the day after.

“To welcome the angelo to our community,” Moses said grandly, as if he had anything to do with the ‘community’. Jude supposed that meant that several other rich families would join them for dinner and entertainment. He smiled and sipped the fine wine he was given and tried his best to enjoy the situation.

Silas, unfortunately, also recovered from the shock rather quickly. “Tell me about Monteverde,” he said in a familial tone that was probably supposed to make Jude feel at ease. He hesitated in answering, studying the young man’s features as if to find a crack in his mask of good will to see the motive beneath. They were sitting in a receiving room, where the family would gather before the evening meal. Jude and his belongings had been taken to a guest room that was bigger than his own and had washed in a private water room.

“The hold is pleasant... and full of life,” he said slowly in response to Silas, letting his unease alter his tone of voice. “There are a lot of people there to petition and many angels and mortals live together there.” 

“Sounds dreadful,” Silas said with a delicate sip of wine.

“What?” asked Jude, feeling genuinely startled. 

Silas laughed and flashed a handsome grin. “Sounds like there isn’t a moment to oneself. Are there any places of solitude?”

“Yes…” Jude went on, even more cautious than before. Trying to read the young man was harder than reading the Archangel, who didn’t show any emotions at all. He longed for simple, honest Hester. “The library is quiet. And I have a room to myself of course.”

“Of course,” said Silas with a knowing nod. “When you aren’t entertaining.” 

Jude had the faint inkling he was walking into a trap. Silas’ uncle had left to pick up other members of the extended family and Moses had gone to meet with the cook about dinner. With no one else to turn to, he was left to entertain the Manadavvi boy. “What do you mean?” he dared to ask, though he felt he was going to regret asking.

“Oh, all your girls, of course,” Silas said in the most offhand voice. Jude, of course, felt the colour rise in his cheeks. He had not entertained  _ any  _ girls in his room at the hold. 

“That’s…” 

Moses could not have returned at a more opportune time. He strode in with a smile, as he usually did, and announced that the cook had a fine clutch of partridge that she had been saving for a dinner such as this. They would dine in splendor tonight.

And dine they did. Silas introduced his two cousins, Betty and Edna, who giggled and smiled in a way that Jude supposed was charming. The aunt Mahlah was a huge woman with a constant look of disdain that was not masked by her overuse of cosmetics. 

The food was impeccable and the wine continued to flow. Jude was careful to only have a few glasses. He felt that if he let his guard down, these people would devour him alive. He had no angel friends to protect him and no other guests to distract the family from bombarding him with questions.

“And what is the angelica like? Our good friends the Oswicks met her and they say she is  _ charming _ ,” said one of the cousins-- Betty or Edna, he could not tell which. Each girl had been sat on either side of Jude at the table, and they each seemed determined to lock him in conversation. 

“She is,” Jude agreed in a neutral voice. “She has a lovely voice. We look forward to her solo at the Gloria.”

“We all look forward to that,” agreed Moses. “And we shall meet her before long, won’t we Silas? What a treat it will be to meet such a fine lady.” 

“Yes, and I am sure Jude will introduce us to many of the household, won’t you?” Silas was situated across the table from the angel, and his smiles were almost as unbearable as the giggling girls. He didn’t even bother to call Jude ‘angelo’ anymore.

“I would be happy to,” Jude said, putting on the most fake smile he could muster. The gesture did not phase Silas and he continued to gaze at the angel almost knowingly. Jude, himself unable to hold a gaze for that long, dropped his eyes to his plate and ate with some determination.

The conversation continued in much the same way: the girls pressed Jude for information about the hold, Moses treated the angel like an old friend and Silas grinned and prodded in a way that was sure to make Jude uncomfortable. In fact, being the centre of attention at all was making the angel uncomfortable and he was glad when Moses suggested Jude view the grounds before the sun went down. Unfortunately, he offered his son to give him the tour.

“I would be happy to, father,” said Silas, kissing his father on the head like a good son. The show of affection seemed so fake to Jude that it was an effort not to frown.

But once he was out of the house and strolling in the cool evening air, he could not help but feel more relaxed. The sun was indeed setting and a winter wind still persisted enough to cool down the angel’s naturally hot blood. Jude took a deep breath and willed himself to feel at peace.

He almost forgot that Silas was following in his wake and jumped when the Manadavvi boy spoke. “You hate us,” he said at once, catching up with easy strides. He was taller than Jude by more than half a head and it was not hard to match the determined strides of the angel.

“What?” Jude said, once again caught off guard. Was there anything predictable that this boy could say?

“You don’t like the Manadavvi, do you?” Silas was smiling, as if it was all some sort of joke to him.

Jude felt himself flush with embarrassment again. He wished he wasn’t so damned transparent. “I don’t like feeling like an object in someone’s plan,” he amended in a small voice.

To his surprise, Silas threw back his head and laughed. He patted Jude on the shoulder as if he had told some fine joke. “Yes, I suppose that’s the short and long of it, after all.” He chuckled again and took a breath. “We’re all pawns in someone’s plan, angelo,” he said as they strode towards the orchards. “You and me included.”

Jude was watching the boy’s face, but their eye never met. He was trying to determine how honest he was being. “You are your father’s pawn?”

“No, my uncle’s,” Silas said easily. “He’s my mother’s brother. His estate is connected to ours, that way, see?” He pointed to the east, where a distant house sat on a hill. “I think he hasn’t forgiven my grandfather for letting my mother have so much of the wealth. And now it’s fallen on us and, well, he feels the need to make sure we use it properly.”

Again, Jude did not answer right away. He watched the sky that was slowly turning indigo over the tops of the short trees. He felt like it would be easy to forget that Silas was Manadavvi, and only  _ pretending _ to be a friend. The conversation was so blunt it made him think of Hester.

“Did he tell you to befriend me?” Jude asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, of course,” Silas replied, waving his hand idly. “Not that it mattered. I would have tried to befriend you anyway.”

“Why?” asked Jude. He could feel himself frowning, even though he didn’t want to. He wanted to hide what he was feeling like Herod could.

“Why not? I mean, maybe it’s just for the politics-- after all, having a contact in the angel hold is a huge advantage. Maybe I think you’ll introduce me to the right people and make my way to higher society. Maybe I will meet an angela who will fall in love with me and bear my children. Maybe,” he paused and for the first time gave Jude a sideways glance. “Maybe I just want to be your friend.”

Jude was definitely frowning now, but not because he was angry. He was confused. “But why are you telling me all this? Why not just use your wit and charm and befriend me the way you do everyone?”

“Because you see through me!” Silas laughed. “You just met me and you already see me for who I am. Most people just get stopped short by my looks and my charm, as you call them, and forget to question my motives.” 

Jude let the silence stretch, thinking as hard as the glasses of wine in his blood would allow. What  _ was _ the harm in letting a Manadavvi be friends with him? After all, he had no illusions about the sincerity of the friendship, so he wasn’t likely to be disappointed. Other angels would tell him that it was a good alliance and would strengthen the bond between Monteverde and the Manadavvi. 

Jude stopped suddenly, and looked directly at Silas. The latter had the grace to look a little surprised but did not break eye contact. 

“Alright,” said Jude. “Let this be an official friendship, then. I will visit your family from time to time and you have the right to call on me if you visit the city. I assume you will use these visits to your advantage and I will strive to do the same.” He wondered for a moment how he could hope to match the political manipulation of such a family, but it sounded good when he said it out loud.

Silas had another laugh in his eye, but he remained mostly serious as he put out a hand. “It’s official, then.” They shook hands like traders making a deal. “I will find you a Manadavvi wife, and you can find me an angel.”

“I didn’t agree to  _ that _ ,” said Jude, but he felt a smile playing on his lips. He quickly turned back to the orchard. “So, what do you grow here?”


	4. Silas' Visitor

Silas found himself more and more amused by the angel Jude each moment that they passed together. Perhaps it was because he was used to the fake banter and pleasantries of the Manadavvi that he enjoyed the blunt conversations that the angel drew from him. He wondered if all angels were able to see so clearly through the lies of others, because there wasn’t a single line that didn’t make Jude narrow his eyes with suspicion.

 

It certainly made flirting with the girls a lot more fun. The following morning Betty and Edna brought a few of their friends to meet the angel over lunch and Silas flirted with them outrageously. As ever, he put on his mask of a sweet, humble (and rich) Manadavvi boy that the girls seemed to love. He would gently compliment them, speaking apparently from the heart. They would sigh and encourage him and he would apologize for being so forward and they would blush and giggle.

He could not get any of it past Jude, who watched the exchanges with obvious disdain and any time the two young men would look at one another Jude would roll his eyes and shake his head. This only made Silas want to do it even more. Finally he worked the girls into such a frenzy that they started on Jude, wondering, perhaps, why the handsome young angelo was not also paying compliments.

“Do you not think Edna’s hair is perfect?” Beccah Simons asked Jude with a bat of her eyes. Jude, predictably, blushed and answered in the most stiff, polite way possible. Then the girls would laugh and Silas along with them. It was the best game he had contrived in a long time.

He didn’t even mind that, somehow, Jude managed to take much of the attention away from himself. The angel had his own boyish charm. His brown and caramel hair was too long and always looked slightly windswept. Sometimes it got in the way of his large green eyes which caused him to toss his head slightly to clear his vision. He was not tall, but his lean body was well-muscled in a way that all angels were. His wings were as impressive, too, all white except for a dusting of brown at the tips of each feather. He also, predictably, had no idea how good looking he was, which made him blush and stammer at any compliment given to him. It was watching this that was so much fun.

And so the early afternoon was spent pleasantly and eventually the evening brought more guests and more food. Normally a dinner party at the Tendler estate only drew a few families, but mention of an angel from Monteverde apparently got the attention of even the most uptight of the local families. The biggest dining room had to be used, tables brought in, and settings placed for many bodies. Somehow in the fuss, Silas’ uncle had found a flute trio to play music and everyone decided to go with their very finest dining attire.

Jude, of course, having not predicted such an event wore the same formal wear from the day before. He looked embarrassed, and even more so when Silas pointed it out to him. “We could have called the tailor,” he said with a smirk. “But I suppose not many people will notice.” Jude looked furious at that comment and Silas laughed as he linked arms with the angel, careful not to touch his wings. “Nevermind. Let’s find you a wife.”

There were so many people in the room that it was a miracle that Silas found a seat with his new angel friend. Jude was placed in the centre seat of the head table with his back to the enormous fireplace. His wings made for a fine centrepiece and all eyes were on him as he sat down. He looked miserable.

“Smile,” Silas said in a singsong voice, “I hope you remembered your mask, tonight. We’re all wearing ours.” Obviously Jude did not understand the metaphor right away, because he whipped his head around to look alarmingly at Silas. A heartbeat later he realized the joke and went back to looking uncomfortable. 

None the less, the angel managed to plaster a smile onto his face, which looked so foreign and fake that Silas was impressed it fooled anyone. Of course it did, because, like himself, Jude was charming enough to stop anyone from wondering too much. 

There was no denying that Silas enjoyed sitting next to the angel. Several prominent figures came by to pay their respects and made a specific stop in front of Silas to congratulate him again on his heroism.  _ “Congratulations for ensnaring an angel to befriend” _ was what they were really saying. “ _ Congratulations for rising in society.” _

After a long dinner of many courses, the party was led out of the dining room to the adjoining ballroom that was seldom ever used. Silas was fairly impressed to see that Mara had managed to find the time and help to hang lanterns all over the ceiling and have a stage erected for the flute players. Chairs and small tables were placed strategically around the room and several of the servants had bottles of wine and orange liqueur that they offered to the guests as they entered. 

Jude entered first with Silas’ father and they stood near the stage, better to enjoy the musical entertainment. Silas himself drifted through the crowd, stopping periodically to offer a compliment to a lady or a share a joke with a man. Everyone knew him and everyone smiled upon seeing him. 

He felt a surge of warmth rise in his chest and he grinned widely. Bolstered by liquor and his obvious popularity, he held himself confidently like the prince of the castle. This was his kingdom and he was in control of it. If this was all society had to offer, then he had already conquered the tallest mountain, already crossed the deepest river. At that moment, he was sure that nothing could topple him.

That is, until Jude started to sing. Someone had convinced the angel to step onto the stage, or else he had volunteered. The trio of flutists had moved aside and waited patiently for their turn to resume. As each guest noticed the angel on stage, wings slightly spread, they turned their heads and grew silent. Jude had complete command of the room.

He sang from a mass, a sacred song that was written through the ages. It was a song of praise, and Jude looked up to the heavens as he sang, as if staring straight into the eyes of the god. Surely Jovah heard him, because his voice was  _ perfect _ , hitting notes no doubt meant for baritones or altos, the strength waning or waxing, as the song demanded. It started slow and repetitive, then grew into a crescendo that had everyone holding their breath.

This was the second time Silas had heard this voice. The first time it had circled down through the clouds, the tendrils of sweet tenor lingering until the clouds were gone. It had seemed so surreal then, like magic, and indeed, Jovah performed a miracle for that voice.

Even now, in this ballroom, Jude’s voice was caramel and chocolate, filling them all with it’s sweetness. When the piece ended, all of the Manadavvi applauded a little more than necessary. 

Silas couldn’t move. He knew his mouth was open slightly, but he thought he might suffocate if he shut it. He had never heard a voice like that before-- and he had heard angels sing before. Jude was better; he was the best. Silas felt he would never hear something so sweet again.

But then Jude started another song and Silas was struck dumb all over again.

This time it was a love song, one that any girl in the three provinces would know. Silas heard a woman just beside him-- married these past twenty years-- sigh happily, as if she was a young girl again. Jude sang as if he had been in love himself and was mourning the girl who had been lost. It was beautiful: simple and beautiful.

Suddenly Jude made eye contact with Silas. He didn’t flinch and his song did not stop. Now it was Silas’ turn to feel awkward and turn away. Feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, he even turned towards a table and scoop up a full glass of wine. Draining it still didn’t make him feel better, so he filled it again and drank. By then the song was over and he felt a little more in control of himself. He turned back to the stage where Jude was giving the crowd silly little bows. Then the angel looked at Silas and actually  _ smirked _ .

“Damn,” Silas muttered, and then he smirked as well.


	5. Jude's Visitor

The library at the angel hold of Monteverde was situated near the central gardens. The tall windows reached as high as the arched ceiling, letting in sunlight at all times of the day. A green glow was created by the plants outside, tinting the dark wooden bookshelves and the white tiled floors. The collection here was not nearly as impressive as the libraries at the Eyrie or Cedar Hills, but they were still the best Jude had ever had access to.

Arguably, the angel didn’t use the library primarily for reading. Angels tended to be sociable creatures, preferring to dine and shop and play instead of cloistering themselves in the quiet sanctuary. Jude was an exception, finding it pleasant, if not entirely necessary, to hide in this place from time to time. 

There were a number of chairs, soft and cut especially for angel wings, clustered in a private alcove on one side of the building. They faced large windows that displayed the far side of the garden, where not many people wandered. This meant lots of sunlight and privacy.

Times like these, when Jude came simply to decompress, he sat with his eyes closed in the sunlight, a book forgotten in his lap. There was little more sound than the scrape of someone taking a book off a shelf or the  _ swish _ of feathers on tile. It was perfect.

Until Hester showed up, as she often did, completely disregarding the common knowledge that libraries were supposed to be quiet places. “Jude, everyone has been looking and looking for you!” she said seriously. Of course, it was hard to take Hester seriously and Jude offered her a little smile that made her soften.

“I’m busy,” he said, settling back and closing his eyes again. Hester made a little impatient sound.

“There’s someone here for you!” she said, unable to hide her own excitement. “Someone extremely good looking and who you have to introduce me to!”

Jude opened his eyes suddenly and gave his friend a searching look. “Who?” he asked quickly, fearing the worst.

“Dark hair, dreamy eyes,” Hester practically purred. “Nice body, perfect manners.” She sighed and Jude swallowed. He wondered if it was possible to find a new hiding place.

Unfortunately, Hester had not just come to her friend on her own volition. She had been sent by the Archangel, and that meant he had to come out of hiding whether he liked it or not. He had to admit it was his own fault-- he had invited the Manadavvi boy to visit with him any time he was in the city. When he had made the statement he hoped it was an empty gesture. Unfortunately his sanctuary was now being invaded by  _ high society _ .

When Jude found Silas he was exchanging words with a mortal girl named Mary, the daughter of an angel. She was normally a shrewd young woman and Jude was glad to see she hadn’t fallen completely for the Manadavvi’s charms. She smiled politely, nodding at his words but all the while managing to look a little bored with the whole situation. Whoever had matched her up with Silas should have been given an award. They sat in two plush chairs in a guest room, and thankfully Jude did not spot any luggage that might belong to Silas.

“Jude!” Silas said in a familial tone when the two angels passed through the door. Jude felt the tone was a little forced, but he let it pass. When the Manadavvi rose to embrace him like a brother, Jude definitely felt he had crossed the line. The moment to passed quickly, however, when Silas released him to face Hester.

“I have met the lovely Mary, but not this creature,” he said, allowing a look of awe to cover his features. It was too much for Jude, but just enough for Hester, who was blushing madly.

“This is my friend Hester. Hester, this is Silas Tendler who I told you about.” He cringed as Silas took Hester’s hand delicately and lowered a gentle kiss onto her fingers. The angela looked completely overwhelmed.

“Well, that’s over with,” Jude said with relief, trying to break the atmosphere as best he could. “Who else should I parade in here, or are you satisfied with two women?”

“Oh Jude,” Silas was laughing, his face masked in his trademark smile. He looked to Hester when he spoke. “He was like this in Manadavvi, you know. But he got a free pass because he’s an angel. No offense, my lady.” He bowed his head ever so slightly ot Hester. He had not dropped her hand.

Hester giggled. “He’s a grump all of the time, really.” She gave Jude a loving look, which made Jude want to forgive her. “But we love him.”

“If you love him, then I will strive to do the same,” Silas said with a hint of mirth. Jude did not like the penetrating gaze he was giving Hester, but he couldn’t think of how to separate the two. Somehow, it was Silas who offered a reprieve.

“Jude, I need your help,” he said suddenly, turning his fake smile onto the angelo. “I have brought gifts to the hold but I do not know where to deliver them. Please, grant me a tour so that I might tell my man where to go.”

“Alright, come on,” Jude said with a sigh, turning his back on the room and heading for the door. From behind him he could hear Silas proclaiming to both women that he was determined to see them again. Hester giggled, Mary did not.

Silas caught up with Jude easily, letting out what must have been a self-satisfied sigh. “I like it here,” he said, predictably.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” Jude muttered, which only made Silas laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry. I have to leave first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” He did not look at Jude as he strode beside him, but looked around eagerly. The angel hold at Monteverde was a very practical place, built in the Verde Divide where it was easy for both angels and mortals to access. The hold was surrounded by something of a city where people from all walks mingled together. It was hewn of stone and dark wood which contrasted against one another and complimented the abundant lush greenery that gave the place its name. They were in the main building, which housed the dining rooms, library, great hall, guest rooms and, of course, the rooms set aside for the leader of the host. 

“What are these gifts, then?” Jude asked, more out a wish to be civil than any real curiosity.

“Why, do you want a gift?” asked Silas with a grin. Jude could feel him turn his dark eyes back on the angel, hoping to catch a reaction. Jude kept his face as still as he could.

“I doubt I have any choice in the matter,” Jude retorted. This was enough to make Silas laugh again and Jude fancied that it actually sounded genuine that time. He chanced a look at the Manadavvi and saw that he looked relaxed. When their eyes met, Silas smiled in a small way, as if he wasn’t sure how to do it naturally.

The tour of the hold took them in and out of buildings, from the kitchens, to the dorms, to the shops and restaurants of the marketplace. Jude wasn’t one to embellish or storytell so he did little more than lead Silas around the hold, pointing out buildings and landmarks. Regardless Silas never looked disappointed, and his questions about the hold brought out more than Jude had intended to tell. 

“So only the angels and their families live in the actual hold,” Silas asked after passing some of the family homes that nestled close to the main building. 

“And the people who work here, yeah,” Jude said. “Though sometimes those lines can be blurred. There’s a girl in the kitchens, for example. I’m pretty sure she’s an angel-seeker.”

Silas grinned at this title, which he no doubt knew all about. “Has she managed to catch any?” He meant, of course, had she managed to sleep with any angels in hope of bearing their angel children.

“Who knows. She’s pretty enough.” Jude said offhand, though he couldn’t help but add to the gossip just a little. “Hester says she is very forward and tries to walk in on angels just after they have bathed. She finds some excuse, you know, ‘Someone sent you a fruit basket, angelo-- oops!’ “ Jude used a falsetto voice for the girl, complete with a little cry of girlish dismay. This was apparently too much for Silas who doubled over laughing.

“Oh Jovah, tell me that isn’t a true story,” Silas said after gulping air. “Is that what she did to you?”

“Oh no,” Jude said with a half grin. “But to my friend Elon. He was practically naked when she waltzed in like she owned the place.” He let out a laugh he had been holding back, recalling the way his angelic friend had told the story. Elon had been mortified.

Silas leaned on Jude’s shoulder with his arm, apparently taking a break from the mirth. They were gazing off of a platform a few levels above the streets below-- a common place for angels to land or take off. The arm on his shoulder was not entirely comfortable, but Jude did not shrug it off right away. The sun, which had been so bright in the library earlier, was starting to make its way to the distant horizon. It was hard to look at, but they did anyway.

Afterwards they headed to the expensive hotel that Silas was staying at. Instead of going into the front door, he led Jude to the back of the building where his servant had parked their large cart. It was much bigger than was necessary to accommodate Silas’ luggage, no matter how lavishly the young man liked to travel.

“A gift for the hold,” Silas explained, pulling himself up to the back of the cart. “Help me with this, will you?” He indicated for Jude to start undoing the knots on the rope that was holding together the wooden doors on the back of the cart, hiding the cargo from view. While Jude worked at the bottom on, Silas worked at the top.

“What I don’t understand,” Silas said after a moment, not pausing in his struggle. “Is how an angel like you managed to stay a virgin so long.” 

Jude was so startled by the comment that he dropped his own knot and turned to face Silas. “What-- what do you mean? You don’t even know!” There was no helping it-- he could feel his face turning red again. Why couldn’t he just hide his damn emotions like everyone else?!

“Now I do!” Silas teased, giving Jude an overall look that suggested he could tell the angel was blushing furiously. His eyes were alight with mischief and Jude desperately tried to raise his defenses. He had to play it off, or lie, or do something before he was ridiculed mercilessly.

Silas did no such thing, and instead he went back to undoing his knot until it came happily apart. “The girls back home are going to put you on a spit and roast you to perfection,” he said neutrally, though his eyes were still laughing merrily. “They’ll lick their lips afterwards and declare no dish better served.” He pulled the doors half open, straining them against Jude’s still knotted rope. 

“W-why would they?” Jude ventured cautiously. 

Silas looked at him again and pulled a large, plump orange out from the cart. He offered the orange to the angel, never breaking eye contact. 

“Because the best dish is the one no one else has tried before.”


	6. Jude's Anger

“ _ Please _ don’t put me at the head table,” Jude pleaded to Orpha, who was walking around the big table in the great hall, inspecting the place settings. As angelica, she was taking charge of this most social event in Gaza. She seemed to be ignoring Jude as she counted chairs. 

“At least let Hester sit with me,” Jude went on, undaunted. He was practically chasing the angelica around the table. 

“Hester will just distract you from your duty,” Orpha said idly. She was a tall thin woman and heavily pregnant. Her condition did not seem to slow her down at all. 

“And what duty is that?” Jude asked in an exasperated tone. He felt he already knew the answer. He was being placed between the Silas Tendler and the Archangel’s brother, visiting from the Eyrie. Across from him was placed some rich merchant and his eligible daughter. “I will be good, honest! I’ve proved that I can handle myself at a dinner. Can’t I have one person with me who doesn’t want to eat me alive?” He was starting to feel desperate now, and he was letting his mouth describe everything on his mind.

The angelica sighed and turned to Jude. She was slightly taller than him, and reminded him very much of his mortal mother. “Alright, fine. I will put her here.” She indicated a place across from Silas. “Not too close to whisper secrets in your ear, but not so far as to not be able to save you from being devoured. Now leave me alone.” She flicked at him dismissively and went back to counting, ignoring his gushed thanks.

Hester was overjoyed at being allowed at the head table, though hardly because of her proximity to Jude. “I can’t wait!” she squealed. “What is Silas’ father like? Is he handsome too? Oh, I can’t wait to see his son again!”

Jude could not bring himself to meet Hester’s level of enthusiasm. While he didn’t dread meeting the Tendlers in particular, he was terrified of the position at the head table that the angelica had thought him worthy of. It meant he was going to have to put on one of those damned fake smiles and try to charm everyone around him. It was not something he excelled at. 

“Two days! How can I wait two days! Jude, what will he be wearing?” Hester was babbling incessantly.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow!” Jude said louder than he meant to. Hester put her hands on her hips in the way that told him she didn’t like to be yelled at. “Sorry. But he is-- I mean, you can talk to him if you want. Before the dinner. They will be in town for a few days.”

This seemed to be enough for Hester for she smiled widely and threw her arms around her friend. Jude agreed to go to the shops tomorrow and help her find a dress for the dinner. Then they would meet up with Silas and Moses and make the formal greeting that was inevitable.

Jude had not seen any of the Tendler family since Silas had left a week ago. His tasks at Monteverde kept him too busy to make pleasure trips and besides, the last visit had left him exhausted. Now that the Spring Dinner was upon them he was going to be subjected to the Manadavvi politics all over again. Mix that with greedy river merchants and powerful angels from far off holds and Jude thought he might have a nervous breakdown.

And yet, Jude was looking forward to seeing his Manadavvi friend again. Silas’ brief, orange-filled visit has actually been amusing. Each conversation with Silas made him seem less and less of a stereotype. It was like the doors to his real identity were slowly opening and Jude was discovering that the person underneath wasn’t actually  _ that bad _ . 

None the less, Jude was guarded the next day when he met with Silas and Moses outside of their lavish hotel. Hester was with him, looking adorable in her spring coat and skirt. Predictably, Silas made a swooping bow and placed the most gentle of kisses on Hester’s outstretched hand. She blushed and laughed making Jude both roll his eyes and smile. It was hard to blame anyone for flirting with Hester.

“Shall we do dinner?” asked Silas, looking amiably from Jude to Hester. Hester frowned and moaned a dissention.

“I’m sorry, I have to do a weather intercession this evening. I am just heading to the hold.” She hesitated, looking really sorry that she couldn’t link arms with this handsome Manadavvi boy and be escorted to luxury. 

“I am heading that way myself,” Moses said suddenly, and Hester graced him with her most polite smile. “Let us go together, my dear, and I can tell you stories from Manadavvi.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Hester, taking Moses’ offered arm. “Did you know my mother was Manadavvi?”

“Do go on! I must hear her name. Silas, where do you intend to take the angelo for dinner?” 

Silas rolled a shrug and pointed idly over his shoulder. “I thought we’d go to Deltiros. I think they were serving something from Breven.”

“Ah, good choice, my boy. Take care of our friend.” And with that, Moses and Hester walked comfortably down the streets of Monteverde, talking as if they were already old friends. Jude couldn’t help but smile. 

“If only it were Hester that fell out of the sky,” he murmured, and then he let his smile fade. How much of the last few weeks would have been different if Hester had gone to make the weather intercession instead of him?

“She could have ruled our society,” Silas said, also watching his father and the angela pass out of sight. “But instead we got you.”

Jude gave Silas a sideways glance and frowned. “Fresh out of charm, are we?” he said accusingly, but it was hard to be really angry. He was glad at how quickly Silas dropped the charade. “I’m no happier with your lot and you are with me.”

“Boy am I looking forward to tonight,” said Silas sarcastically. Then, smiling in the most gentlemanly way, he offered an arm to Jude. “My lady?”

“Oh, come on,” Jude said, surprised to find himself grinning. He pushed past the arm and set off in the direction of Deltiros, which he had been to many times himself. “What they are serving from Breven is blackened catfish and it is probably too spicy for your well-bred tongue.”

“You’d be surprised what this tongue has tasted,” Silas said, falling into step beside the angel. “And not all of it food.” He wiggled an eyebrow, and Jude couldn’t help laugh now. Either Silas was trying very hard to pretend to by Jude’s friend, or the Manadavvi had been looking forward to seeing the angel and was genuinely happy to be with him. Jude hoped it was the latter, but worried that it was probably the former.

Regardless, they had a delicious dinner at the restaurant. It was much less formal than Silas was no doubt used to, but the food was exquisite. The ceilings were rather low, the lighting dim and the music, coming from a rowdy group of singers, was too loud. Silas seemed to love it and drank in all the sights like someone who hadn’t been out for years. 

“Getting bored of the estate, then?” Jude asked, playing with the last of his catfish which had indeed been very spicy. 

Silas might have sighed, but it was too loud to tell. “My father and uncle want me to run it one day, but I am just as happy to hire a overseer when the time comes. It's all lessons and letters and walking endlessly around the grounds. It’s good to finally go somewhere interesting.”

“Have you been to the other cities? Luminaux?” asked Jude, taking a long drink of ale. The beer was light and easy to drink: the perfect beverage for washing down spicy food. 

Silas tipped his head back in mock ecstasy. “I  _ love _ Luminaux. I might just run away to live there one day.”

“Or just  _ go. _ You aren’t a Jansai woman, bound to your house.”

“Not all of us have wings, Jude.” Silas’ dark eyes slowly travelled up and around the expanse of Jude’s wingspan. The slow progression of his gaze made the angel slightly uncomfortable and he shifted in his seat.

“More beer?” he ventured, terrified that an awkward silence was about to happen.

“Always,” Silas said with a grin. “I need to loosen you up enough to shake out some of your secrets.” He leaned on the table, as if about to take part in a dark conference.

Jude wondered why it made him uncomfortable. “I don’t have any secrets,” he said defensively. “I grew up here with my mother. She died giving birth to my sister. I mean, my half sister. My mother wasn’t really picky about… I mean, my father…” He paused, realizing he was speaking as plainly as if he was talking to Hester. 

“Your father?” Silas pressed. Like a predator, he knew he had found his prey’s weakness. 

“I don’t know who he is,” Jude said quicker than he meant to. “He was just some angel. Obviously.” He buried himself in the mug of ale, hiding his face as best he could. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Silas teased. He signaled to a passing serving woman that they wanted another jug of ale and then continued. “The trick is coming up with a good lie before anyone even asks you the question. Something like: ‘My father was a rich river merchant. You would not know his family-- they were very private people’.”

Jude put down his drink and inspected Silas’ face. He wondered how many people were fooled by such a story. Probably most. “How poor was Moses before he met your mother?” he asked, point blank. Jude liked the way that Silas looked startled at how blunt he was.

“Poor enough,” he said, releasing a deep breath. “Sometimes I wonder how he can get by in society. My uncle is basically his handler-- keeps him from making the worst of the social blunders.” He shook his head, as if disappointed. “Nevermind.”

Jude was watching the other man closely. This was about as close as Silas had come to being really, completely honest. It seemed to transform him-- or maybe it was the dim lighting of the cheap restaurant-- and make him look more real. Like if he reached out and touched Silas’ face he would feel his soft skin and not a mask.

Silas did not break the silence, but raised his own gaze to look at Jude. But something in the angel’s face made him look suddenly embarrassed and he cleared his throat. 

Just then the beer came-- or at least, they thought it had. Someone stood over the table and took both their attentions.

“Hester!” said Jude happily, always glad to see his friend. She beamed at him and turned to scoop a chair from another table and join them.

“Isn't it wonderful? Someone went off and did my intercession for me. So now I am free! What have you been talking about? Did you eat? Is there more beer?” She chattered aimlessly in the way she often did, dazzling them both with her sheer, undaunted cheerfulness. “And did you know? Your father probably knew my mother. Or so he said. They probably went to the same parties. Imagine that!”

Silas and Jude met eyes but did not say anything. Then, suddenly, Silas put on a smile-- one of  _ those  _ smiles. He flashed it to Hester who seemed to instantly light up in response. Jude could see what was happening before Silas even opened his mouth. It was like a switched flipped and suddenly the Manadavvi boy was in charm mode.

“Hester, tell me about yourself. I am dying to know about angels. Are they all as pretty as you?” This made Hester giggle and blush prettily. 

Jude was  _ not _ amused. After the astonishment passed, he felt himself grow more and more impatient with the whole situation. Silas, perhaps influenced by the drink, went into full seduction mode. The honest side of him was completely buried under a persistent, fake smile.

While Jude was not completely excluded from the conversation, his unwillingness to play into Silas’ charade made him withdraw completely. He drank and watched, growing increasingly agitated for reasons he could only explain as having his real friend replaced by a fake asshole with a hundred different selfish motives at play. Hester was oblivious-- she was completely taken in by Silas’ charm, and she let him play her like a flute. And why not? She had always loved the Manadavvi lifestyle and she wouldn’t mind a husband who was less than honest, so long as he was rich and handsome, just like Silas.

“Don’t you think, Jude?” Silas was asking. 

“What?” snapped Jude, putting down another empty mug. 

“Don’t you think Hester would be the most beautiful in silver-- or gold, maybe, but I know that is usually reserved for the angelica. A shame, to outshine our girl, eh?”

Jude waved a hand in what he hoped looked like an off-hand way. “Hester will be beautiful in anything she wears.” Hester beamed at him, obviously overseeing his general ill humour. It did not fool Silas, however. 

“What's stuck up your backside?” he asked with uncharacteristic bluntness. 

Jude scowled at him and took a deep drink.

Silas grinned wickedly this time while Hester looked confused. “You’re jealous!” he accused, but he wasn’t at all upset. In fact, he looked like a hungry asp about to spring on his prey.

“That’s ridiculous!” Jude snapped, feeling flushed from anger and embarrassment and alcohol. 

“You wanted me all to yourself, didn’t you?” Now even Hester looked at Silas, her mouth open in a mixture of outrage and confusion.

“Get over yourself!” Jude all but yelled, slamming his hands on the table, causing the drinks to rattle. A few other patrons at the restaurant turned their heads in the direction of the two angels and the handsome mortal boy. “You pompous… Selfish…” Jude struggled for words, but they were slurring together and all he was managing was to spray spit on the table. Frustrated beyond words, he pushed himself to an unbalanced stand, knocking the chair down behind him.

He struggled to storm out of the restaurant, because his wings caught on a table on the way to the door. He wrenched it free and flung himself into the night. He had no idea how late it was or how many drinks he had. Behind him, he heard someone follow him out of the open door.

“Jude!” Someone said, but the angel heedlessly beat his wings against the road and launched himself clumsily into the air.


	7. Silas' Humility

Hester and Silas did not exchange a single word as they walked back to the angel hold in the centre of the city. The streets were almost empty, a telling sign that it was very late to be out. Hester was in tears and Silas wondered if this was the first time she had quarrelled with her friend. She looked so ashamed and miserable that Silas dropped the flirting act immediately and offered to walk her home.

In fact, it was Silas who felt ashamed. The dinner had gone so well, better than any dinner he had enjoyed before. It wasn’t the food or the atmosphere, but the feeling of being free. He was able to talk to Jude so openly that it surprised him, but he was more surprised with the pleasure it brought him. He had almost felt giddy with the sensation. In that mood, egged on by a few drinks, he found impossible not to tease his angel friend.

And flirting with Hester was so easy. She soaked up his compliments like a flower to the sun and the more she smiled, the more Jude frowned. And the more Jude scowled, the more Silas wanted to tease him. “You’re jealous!” he had said, and when this wasn’t enough, he even added: “You wanted me all to yourself, didn’t you?” Some voice at the back of his head was telling him that he was going too far, pushing the angel over the edge.

By the time Silas heeded this voice it was too late and the damage was already done. The instant Jude stormed out of the restaurant he was on his feet to follow him. “Jude!” he had yelled, but the angel took off into the sky where Silas could not follow.

And then Hester was crying and Silas remembered that he wasn’t in Manadavvi, where everyone was used to dishonesty and lies. The rest of Samaria looked at the Manadavvi as unfeeling power mongers, more interested in collecting allies than making actual, honest-to-Jovah  _ friends. _

Silas walked Hester home not only because he felt bad for her, but because he wanted to find Jude and apologize. He almost explained this to Hester, but she left him at the lower entrance to the dorms without another word. Silas took a step back and wondered which window might belong to Jude. He considered entering the building to look around, but he was likely to not be welcome there by the angels who called it home. So he went back to the hotel and slept poorly.

 

\------------

 

The morning came too fast bringing Moses Tendler with it. “Come on, my boy. This morning we watch the petitions and then the luncheon in the gardens. It’s a full day, my boy. A  _ full _ day.” His father was practically dancing as he navigated around the big room that they shared. Although they could have afforded two rooms, there hadn’t been more than one available. Luckily this one was one of the largest and had its own room for bathing. Each bed was huge and allowed them to sleep separately. 

Silas got slowly out of bed, his head cloudy from the night of drinking ale. They had only brought one man servant with them: a quick, efficient man named Lael. At that moment he was gone, no doubt off to the tailor to make sure Moses’ dinner jacket would be ready on time. It didn’t matter-- Silas would be able to ready himself for the day. Though, he admitted, it would have been easier if he wasn’t hungover. He spent far longer than necessary under the stream of hot water in the showers. Then he stood in front of the wardrobe for uncounted minutes trying to remember which outfit he had meticulously packed for today’s events.

Moses was overflowing with anxiety by the time they finally left the hotel. He was as giddy as a school boy on the first day of summer, and Silas detected an annoying little  _ bounce _ in his step. The sun was shining and the city was bustling with activity. Everyone seemed just as bouncy as Moses, full of anticipation and cheerfulness.

Silas found the sunshine gave him a headache and the unending cheerfulness made him sour. He was trying not to remember the night before, and when he did, he tried to brush it all off as not important.

Only it  _ was  _ important, and he was only just starting to realize why. Silas always imagined that he had a lot of friends. He was always surrounded by boys his age who would follow him anywhere and girls who wanted his attention. People laughed at his jokes and complimented his many talents. There was never a lack of conversation or luxury in their young lives. But somehow, out of all of those people, he had never had a friendship quite like the one he had destroyed with Jude. 

Silas never knew he could be so honest with another person. He said whatever was on his mind when he was with the angel, never feeling the need to lie or exaggerate. Somehow they started their relationship with honesty, and not surprisingly, it continued that way. Silas had even, he realized with a start, told Jude the truth about his father’s background. Was it all that honesty that made Silas want to tease the angel? Why else did he want to poke and prod him just to get a reaction? Why had he let himself get carried away with this desire?

Maybe, he thought, he wanted to test the threshold of this new friendship. He wanted to push and push as if to prove that Jude was not such a good friend after all. Maybe it was to prove that no Manadavvi ever had real friends. 

Silas watched his father stride in front of him down the road, happy and oblivious. Did Moses have any friends that he had pushed away when he assumed his position as lord of the estate? It was hard to imagine Moses, who was honest by Manadavvi standards, as being as cruel and unfeeling as Silas had been.

The morning petitions were held in the great hall which Jude had pointed out to Silas on his previous visit. The Archangel, all fiery hair and imposing body size, sat at the front of the room behind a table. On his right was the angelica and on his left was an older angel which Silas knew to be named Pel. It wasn’t usual for all three of these bodies to be represented at the petitions, but in an effort to clear the list of requests as quickly as possible before the evening’s pleasures, they worked together. Land disputes, requests for divine intervention, and reports of crimes were all heard and dealt with with surprising efficiency. 

Regardless, it was a long time for Silas to be standing. The room only had seats for the three council members, and everyone else was required to stand. Those who came with petitions made a rough line down the centre of the room, and those come to observe stood around the edges. Today the room was packed and there were a number of angels who seemed to be taking charge or making sure the petitioners were separated from the onlookers. Silas spotted Jude among them.

He watched the angel for a long time, trying to read his expressions from the distance. He was too far for them to speak, unless Silas was to shout over the crowd. Whether it was on purpose or not, Jude never made eye contact with Silas and so there was no chance to guess how the angel was feeling. 

Eventually the line dwindled and people started to leave the room. This was a time for the guests-- mostly Manadavvi, Jansai and river merchants-- to mingle and discuss the various outcomes of the morning.

Moses and Silas found themselves in front of Lord Irvine, the richest man in their county. He was a tall, thin man of over sixty with a generous beard and immaculate clothing. “Well, I didn’t expect Hawthorn to get those extra acres,” he said conversationally. He was being polite-- neither he nor the Tendler men could care less about the poor bit of land that Lord Hawthorn saw fit to dispute. Moses played along in a way that would make his brother in law proud.

“It will comfort his dear mother,” he said politely, remembering the old Mrs. Hawthorn who was on her deathbed. “No doubt the land might do for sheep.” The land was so poor it would do for nothing else, but Silas said nothing to this effect. He was starting to get a headache, and he wanted to seek out Jude before everyone left.

“Excuse me, father,” he said politely. “Lord Irvine. I wish to catch up a friend of mine.” He bowed his head with a little smile and allowed himself to exit the conversation without much loss of grace.

However, the angel Jude was nowhere to be found. He did spot the pearly wings belonging to Hester and he thought those would do, for now.

“Hester,” he said politely. He hesitated when she turned to face him, trying to gauge whether to be honest or not. He had the feeling that she might see through his fake smiles now. Indeed, she didn’t look entirely happy to see him, and met his gaze with a icy glare.

“Hester,” he said again, this time apologetically. “I’m sorry about last night. I-- I am not usually that rude.” He was walking the fine line between humble and proud. He knew it was not honest, but he was desperate for some answers from the angela.

It did make her expression soften a little, though she crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” she said evenly.

“Is he... very angry?” Silas asked, trying not to sound like the answer mattered much to him. 

Hester shrugged. “He’s been in the library since dawn. That’s where he goes to hide. Get away, you know?” Silas remembered Jude mentioning how there was solitude to be found in the library. “He’ll be gone until dinner, though.” Hester looked awkward then, dropping her arms and fingering a bit of fabric on her cotton dress. 

For once, Silas wasn’t sure how to fill the silence that followed. His brain felt heavy and he was so tired. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and sleep until he felt ready to rejoin society. He wondered if could face Jude even then.

“Thank you,” he said eventually, not even offering the angel a smile. She nodded and left him there, where Moses found him a few minutes later.

“There you are Silas! The luncheon is beginning in an hour. I want to get there early.” He looked at his son, his face suddenly falling. “Whatever is the matter, my boy?”

Silas blinked in surprise. He had never let his guard fall in such a public way before. He quickly put on a smile and then stifled a yawn. “Ah, sorry father. I stayed out too late last night. You know how it is.” He winked boyishly, eliciting a little grin from Moses. “I must beg your pardon. I believe I will need to rest before the dinner tonight.”

Moses nodded and patted his son on the shoulder. “Yes, yes, of course. I was young not long ago, too, you know. So long as you are at your best for the dinner. I shall sing your praises at lunch, and they will seem all the more heroic if you are not there to act all humble.” He barked and uncouth laugh, but Silas couldn’t help smiling. He had never looked forward to sleep more in his life.

\------------

 

Silas woke up to the sound of polite but insistent knocking at his hotel door. “My lord, are you awake?” It was Lael, come to wake him for dinner. Silas bid him enter and the man swept into the room with an armful of neatly folded clothing. “You have an hour before they serve dinner,” he said with a subtle edge of panic in his voice. “I have your things here. Do you need my assistance.”

Feeling a little more than stunned, Silas allowed the man to dress him. Admittedly, he may not have realize how badly the back of his hair stuck up had Lael not decided to flatten it with a comb. They both stood in front of a full length mirror ten minutes later, assessing whether Silas was fit to be seen.

“It will do,” Silas said, trying on his most winning smile. He looked like a perfect Manadavvi lordling, head to toe in the finest formal attire, Luminaux-made jacket and slacks, a handsome blue vest made of silk and a crisp white shirt underneath. After a moment’s consideration, Silas unbuttoned the top two buttons on the shirt and offered his reflection a sly grin. Now he was ready.

The sun was setting over the trees that lined the western horizon, however the cobblestones of the roads were wet, as if rain had recently fell. No doubt the angels had sang to Jovah that afternoon, praying for fine weather on their day of festivities. It was only a slight manipulation of power, but the angels did such an intercession sparingly and only on special occasions. The result was an orange pink sunset, playing on the last of the rain clouds that stubbornly spotted the sky. 

The streets were filled with people from all walks of life. The guests of the main dinner were only the upper class, but festivities were common all over the city of Monteverde. Sounds of buskers playing on street corners and men laughing uproariously filled the air, while children dodged in and out of the crowds of people. Everyone was dressed their finest, be they servants or farmers or landowners. It wasn’t hard for Silas to spot the differences, but it was pleasant to look upon the colours and finery of all classes mixed together.

Lanterns had been strung along the walk and were being lit one by one as the sun disappeared. Arrangements of flowers in clay planters lined the road, giving off an aroma more appropriate to summer than spring, but the effect was pretty. As Silas approached the ballroom entrance, where the dinner was being held, the crowd of merchants, nobles, angels and other well-to-do folk thickened. They were a field of butterflies of every colour, though red and pink were no doubt in season. Silas passed snippets of conversation, light laugher and face after face supporting unreal smiles.

This was it-- the night Silas and his father had been waiting for. This was the opportunity for new alliances and publicity. Silas was going to charm, schmooze and lie his way into the hearts and minds of each powerful landowner, each rich widow and every angel he could possibly meet. By the end of the evening his name would be on the tongue of many new circles of influence: Who was Silas Tendler? Why hadn’t they heard of him before? Is he still unmarried? Yes, this was the night for politics and gain.

Or, it should have been. Silas’ smile felt like plaster on his face. He had lied and wore it so many times before, but tonight it felt forced and he wondered if everyone around him could tell. He went through light conversation with people in his acquaintance, meeting a few new prominent people and sharing a laugh with anyone in a group. No one questioned his sincerity-- or maybe they were used to the false charm of the Manadavvi. The conversations went exactly as he might have planned, the women batted their eyes at him and the men talked to him like they had known him their whole life. But the whole thing felt surreal, like he was watching a play. 

The guests entered the grand ballroom sometime after night fell. The high ceilings were hung with crystal chandeliers which caught the light from hundreds of gas lamps. The tables, of which there were many, were set with the finest plates and silver cutlery. A long table was raised on a dais: the head table. Several people were already there, standing with their backs to the far wall. The Archangel looked imposing in his black formal wear and his angelica looked elegant in gold, despite being very pregnant. A few other angels milled about the table, including, Silas saw with a small jolt of his heart, Jude.

This was it, he knew. This was his chance to set things right between them and go back to whatever they had before they have quarrelled. Silas was determined to apologize, though he wasn’t sure he could do it publically. As he made his way to the high table he saw that Jude was surrounded by several girls, and no wonder: he looked especially fine in his formal outfit. It was tailored perfectly to fit slightly snug on his form, showing off what Jovah had given him, while made of fine materials and shades of green to bring out his eyes. 

Jude was laughing when Silas was finally within earshot. He was smiling too, and not the way he usually did. The Manadavvi realized with a start that it was not a real smile. It was much the same as the one Silas was wearing earlier.

“Ah, my good friend, Silas Tendler!” Jude said happily, as if to introduce him to all of these ladies. Silas only recognized Hester, who was smiling a little reluctantly. She gave Silas a look that was impossible to read before introductions were being made.

“Let’s see if I get this right,” said Jude, eying the girls around him. “Bethel, Joan, and… No, don’t tell me!” He paused to think, though Silas could tell he was just teasing the girl who gave him a look of astonishment.

“Jude, how rude!” she said playfully, giving him a mock slap on his arm.

“Right, Rachel. How could I forget! You do look like an angelica.” He was referring to the last reigning angelica with the name Rachel, who had famed beauty. The girl, who hardly compared with an angelica, blushed. 

Silas was so shocked that he almost forgot his own manners. He too hastily bowed his head to the women and didn’t offer to kiss anyone’s hand. “Forgive me, but if I might borrow Jude for a moment. I need to have a private conference with him.”

Jude laughed, and it didn’t convince Silas. “Oh, nevermind that, my friend. We have ladies to entertain. Did you know Bethel Camnen is going to sit right across from us? What a treat, eh Silas?” Jude was winking at him and Silas was at a loss at how to respond. He looked at Hester for help but she only gave the most subtle of shrugs.

Silas sat beside his father on the far left side of the head table with his back to the wall so he could see the whole room. It was an honour to be here, he knew. There were several other prominent guests here: senior angels, city leaders and well known artisans. While most guests were residents of Gaza, there were several others visiting from the two other provinces, including the hosts of the two angel holds: Cedar Point and the Eyrie. It seemed the closer you got the centre of the table, the more important the guests were. Silas noted with interest that the room was much the same; he hardly recognized anyone along the peripherals of the room. 

“Do you see Lord Irvine?” Moses whispered in his ear, and of course Silas had already seen him at a centre table near the front of the room. It was a less important seating assignment than the Tendlers enjoyed. Moses chuckled appreciatively. 

Silas didn’t feel like chuckling tonight. He felt Jude sit beside him, feeling a swish of wings behind him that made him shiver slightly. Jude was listening raptly to the girl Bethel who seated herself across him, beside a man who could only be her father.

“Father’s family has been shipping over the Galilee River for generations. He is known by all the traders to be one of the  _ most  _ trustworthy and  _ most _ reliable.” The girl was pouring everything she had into impressing the angel: right down to smiling in a slightly pouty way as if she had practised it in the mirror. “Father, tell him of your reputation!”

The father was not much more humble than the girl, boasting of his dealings with the Jansai, the Manadavvi, even the Edori. Silas wondered if Jude was really truly paying attention, because he could feel his own eyes glazing over. When he glanced at the angel, however, he saw him nodding and smiling as if he actually liked the river merchant.

As the first courses started to be served, the conversations went from the weather, to trading, to politics, to the Gloria and so on. Moses found himself deep in conversation with a man from Jordana about the right growing conditions for different fruit, something that bored Silas deeply. Hester was exchanging words with an angel on her left, who she apparently grew up with. Jude, of course, kept the girl Bethel well-entertained.

All through the main courses Silas realized he had been uncommonly quiet. His answers were short and to the point, and he barely smiled at anyone. He was polite, to be sure, but he anyone who knew him would say he was not himself. He found himself watching Jude the most often, marvelling at this strange and unattractive transformation in the young angel. 

It wasn’t until Bethel and her father excused themselves after the main course that Silas started to realize what was going on. He was half expecting Jude to leap from his seat to flirt with some other girl, but he was glad to see the angel stayed put.

“I know what you’re doing,” Silas said in a low voice so that no one else could hear. Jude looked as though he hadn’t heard and continued to survey the room with feigned interest. “You are trying to prove a point.”

Jude looked in Silas’ direction without making eye contact, and studied his plate instead. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Silas made an impatient noise. “Look, I know you’re angry with me. But you don’t have to put on this whole show just for me!”

Jude really did round on him now, his green eyes alight with fury. “It’s all about you, isn't it?” He said with enough venom to make Hester suddenly turn her head towards them. “The whole world revolves around Silas Tendler. If anyone does anything, it’s because of him. We all live to bow to your whim!”

In another situation, on another night, such words would have made Silas equally angry. But tonight, in the face of the one person he cared about, he felt deflated. When he did not reply, Jude sat back, still scowling.

“Nothing to say? That’s a first,” he said sourly. He paused, stewing in his anger for a little bit longer. Bethel and her father were not back yet, and Jude watched them where they stood a few tables away. “You know what I think?” he asked before Silas could find the words. “I think you’re jealous.”

If Silas hadn’t gotten the point before, it was being plainly laid in front of him now. It was just as he feared-- Jude was angry with him, perhaps irreparably so. He hadn’t needed to hear those words to understand just how Jude felt: before last night, the angel and the Manadavvi had shared a friendship that had so much potential. As soon as Silas had donned a mask and ceased being honest, it shattered the thin bridge of trust that he had managed to build. They would never share that honesty again.

This conclusion squeezed at Silas’ chest. Somehow he couldn’t bare the thought of not having Jude as a friend-- a  _ real  _ friend.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. It was the most honest thing he could say at that moment. He was nothing if not regretful. Jude did not turn to face him again, and instead drained a glass of wine.

Silas turned to his father and told him in his most polite voice that he was unwell. He stood with as much grace as he could muster and left the ballroom, not looking back once.


	8. Jude's Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so long.

It was raining in Monteverde. Fat, spring drops of life-bringing water were filling the streets with currents and lining the tall windows of the hold. It was by no means a storm, and didn’t warrant a prayer to Jovah, but it was cold and wet: Jude’s two least favourite things.

The library, which responded so well to sunlight, was now drafty and chilled. The comfortable seats seemed damp, despite being indoors. Jude had fled his sanctuary after only a few minutes of discomfort and now he considered just crawling back into bed. He would have, too, if he didn’t have an appointment with the Archangel.

All the angels of Samaria answered to the Archangel, but the Monteverde angels most of all. Jude should have been nonplussed about the meeting, but something in his gut told him it was not going to be a pleasant one. Nothing in the past week had been pleasant.

The Spring Dinner had been a disaster. Everyone had a wonderful time, even Bethel Camnen. Manners were impeccable, the food was divine and several important trade disputes had been settled over wine. Jude was sure he was the only one who had hated the whole thing. Well, him and Silas Tendler.

Jude’s most prominent feeling when recollecting his behaviour at the dinner was guilt. This was followed closely by anger towards Silas, mixed with anger at himself, and all of this was lined by a feeting of regret. It had been a week since the end of the dinner, and a week since he had seen Silas at all.

Jude had been determined not to give in to Silas and accept an apology. He had been a fool to ever trust the Manadavvi in the first place. His true colours were those of dishonesty and lies, and from the beginning of their strange relationship that was what he was supposed to expect. But somewhere in their journey together, Jude had fallen for Silas’ charms and convinced himself they were close.

Silas’ apology at the dinner sounded so sincere, which made Jude feel all the more confused. Afterwards Jude had wanted to go find Silas and draw out of him an explanation, but he was  _ determined _ , after all. 

Jude thought about Silas all night. He thought about him the next day, too, when only Moses showed up to the breakfast. He considered even going to the hotel to see Silas off and maybe solidify their status as businesslike partners. Heck, he considered going to the hotel just to see Silas at all. Since he didn’t do any of these things, he continued to wonder what Silas was thinking, what he was going to do, and whether he was going to miss their friendship-- whether or not it was genuine.

The rest of the week didn’t bring anything better. Jude had been sent on another doomer weather intercession which only turned out slightly better than the one that introduced him to the Tendlers. He knew better than to sing at the height of the storm and instead sat in the cramped dining room of the mayor of a tiny farm town and pretended not to be miserable. 

Hester wasn’t much help in cheering Jude up either, as she seemed to only want to talk about Silas. 

“You need to  _ talk _ to him,” she had insisted. By now Jude understood that Hester had no interest in courting the Manadavvi man. “You both looked so upset that night. You can’t just leave it like that!”

Jude had not protested, but scowled and buried himself in a rather boring book. Hester, defeated, had stormed out of the library in her rather dramatic way.

And now Jude was looking forward to a meeting with the Archangel that could only be about something serious. Herod didn’t often call for private appointments and they were often used to scold or intimidate.

Jude dragged his feet on the long hallway to the Archangel’s chambers. The gas lights flickered pathetically against the uncommonly dark afternoon. The rain continued to batter against the windows, making an incessant sound that was grinding Jude’s nerves.

The Archangel was sitting by the window in his receiving room, his broad white wings stretched behind him and his back straight as he looked out over the gloomy city. He turned to Jude when the younger angel entered and gestured to a seat not far from his own. Jude took it sullenly, not making eye contact with his senior. 

“Jude, I have some grave news for you,” the deep voice began, and Jude looked up at him surprised. This was not what he was expecting. His heart jumped as he tried to wrack his brain for possible disasters that could have occurred. He wanted to ask Herod a hundred questions all at once, but knew the best course was to listen.

“Your friends Moses and Silas Tendler are missing,” he said with no hint of sympathy. It was like talking to a rock that observed everything and cared for nothing. “Their estate has been burnt to the ground. The local authorities are suggesting arson, and I have sent angels to investigate. The Tendlers are nowhere to be found.”

Jude could sense that his mouth was open but he couldn’t find the effort to close it. Panic was clouding his mind and he wasn’t able to move at all. Herod looked slightly discomforted by this reaction, but remained mostly stoic.

“If you wish to go and see for yourself, I believe you might be able to help there,” Herod went on. “You spent some time in that community and you may have some leads about the Tendlers’ whereabouts as well as who may have wanted to do them harm.”

Jude’s brain went from being completely numb to moving at the speed of light. His voice caught up quickly and he struggled not to babble. “Do them harm?! Do you think they are hurt? When did the fire happen-- was it before the Dinner? Maybe they missed it. Maybe they are with family.” He stood up suddenly and looked out the window.

“These are questions for Selene, who is in the Manadavvi country leading the investigation,” Herod said almost impatiently. He also stood, signalling that the conversation was at an end. He turned to his writing desk on the other side of the room where neat piles of paper awaited him. He hesitated and turned back to Jude who stood stock still.

“I--” Jude looked at the Archangel, who suddenly sounded unsure. “I hope for your sake that they are well. I see how you care for your friend.” 

If Jude’s mind had not been miles away, he might have been surprised and moved by this rare display of feeling from the Archangel. It was a phenomenon which would have to be considered more closely another day. At that moment Jude was half considering flinging himself from this very window and fly straight to the Tendler estate-- or what was left of it. 

He left the Archangel’s room quickly, heading instead for his own dorm. His room on the second floor was no bigger or smaller than any of those belonging to angels. It was strewn with clothing and books, as well as a travel bag that had only been half unpacked from his last flight. He hastily repacked it, not thinking very much about what went into it. He worked quickly, determined to arrive in Manadavvi before the evening fell.

It didn’t matter-- when Jude launched himself into the air the clouds made the trip as dark as if it was night. Jude struggled against the higher altitude winds, rising higher and higher until he was able to clear the cloud head. Higher still he went, until suddenly sunlight burst through a cloud and warmed his back. Up here the air was clear and thin, easier for flying but harder for breathing. None-the-less Jude would make good time up here. 

Only now did Jude have a moment to consider his own reactions. Why had he suddenly leapt to action when he heard Silas was in trouble? Why was his mind so clouded by anxiety? He didn't hate the young man, but he hadn't thought he was so desperate for his safety. This newfound feeling of worry was confusing for the angel, but he wasn't sure how else to deal with it, besides finding Silas and making sure he was OK. 

After an hour of intense wing falls Jude dipped down below the persistent clouds, surveying the land and assessing how far he had flown. He was nearly there, which would have surprised him any other day. He flew lower, as if he would be able to find Silas already, marooned in the countryside and baring a plague flag for help. However, Jude came upon the wreckage of the estate before anything else. The fire was long dead and the rain was washing away the last of the ash. Rows upon rows of young orange trees were black and broken. The worker’s housing was a smothering ruin, save a few walls and collapsed roofs. The main house was in the worst state-- barely more than a black smudge on the ground. Here Jude circled and landed, coming down on the wet grass of the vast lawn.

Someone must have seen him in the sky, for a man came running out to meet him, his coat over his head against the downpour. “Angelo!” called an unfamiliar voice. Jude turned to meet the man, shielding his own eyes against the drops. 

“I have come to help with the investigation,” Jude called over the loud rain. The man stopped beside him and seemed to be eyeing him suspiciously.

“Aye, we have some other angels here, too,” he said. His accent suggested lower class, while he was not poorly dressed.

Jude nodded. “I knew the Tendler family. I thought I could answer some questions.” This made the man nod back and gesture for Jude to follow him. They were both soaked through and no doubt a conversation in the rain wasn’t going to yield very much information. 

The man led Jude away from the main house, heading for two large tents beside some miserable-looking horses. They entered one of the tents and Jude quickly took in the scene: two cots, a wooden table and two stools. Another man sat at the table, apparently writing a letter. He looked up when the two entered and smiled. Jude was surprised to see he was Edori, sporting sleek black hair and olive skin. 

“More angels,” he said in a more positive voice than his partner. The other man was shaking out his coat and not looking at Jude or the Edori. “Does Herod send more help?”

“More or less,” Jude said, suddenly unsure of how helpful he was really going to be. “My name is Jude. I know the Tendler family.” Or rather, he had spent a few uncomfortable evenings with them. How could he explain to anyone that his relationship with the Tendlers had been flimsy at best-- he could barely name all of the family members and definitely didn’t know where the cousins lived. He could tell them about Silas. He could tell them a lot about Silas.

“My name is Jonathan,” the Edori said, coming to his feet and offering a hand to Jude. The angel wiped his hand on his leather pants and shook the other man’s. He noted how worn they were, even though the man couldn’t have been more than forty. “Peter and I are leading the investigation here.”

Jude looked back to the other man, who was standing close to a gas lamp as if it would warm him up. He looked like any farm-born mortal of Samaria, except for perhaps a sharp look in his eye. “You are… detectives?” asked Jude, taking a moment to recall the word. While most crimes were dealt with by angels and city police, there were people who specialized in the most puzzling of crimes, where it is nearly impossible to discern the culprit.

The Edori man grinned and spread his arms, as if to present himself. “At your service, Jude. Here return harmony to Samaria.”

Peter uttered a scoff from behind Jude, making the angel turn again. “What harmony?” he muttered. He looked past Jude to his partner. “Don’t you know who you’re talking to, Jon? The angels deal in harmony, not us.” 

Jonathan sighed, and turned back to the table. Jude saw it was covered in piles of papers. Several ink bottles were already empty and a few quills lay scattered amongst the debris. “Yes, the angels. Selene was just here with her partner Manny.” Jude recognized the names of two Monteverde angels. “They have formed a local search party and are scouring the countryside. We have opted to stay back and examine what clues we can.”

Jude thought about the angels sweeping over the land, watching for plague flags or other signs of life. His first impulse was to leap into the sky and join them, but he hesitated.

“What clues?”

“Oh, he wants to know about the clues, huh?” asked the man Peter, who was donning a dry wool jacket and heading to the other stool by the table. “He wants to listen to us lowly mortals?”

“Pete,” Jonathan said in a reprimanding tone.

Peter looked at his partner with annoyance and seemed about to say something. But instead he threw up his hands and sat down heavily. 

Jonathan took a small breath and turned back to Jude. “The story is: we were summoned here two days ago. The fire that had ripped through the estate had already been quelched by the rains summoned by the angels. There wasn’t much to see-- the house is all but gone, the orchards destroyed and the workers barely managed to keep their homes intact. We went to question them first. None of them knew how the fire started, or where, except that they were woken in their beds at midnight to the smell of smoke. The fire spread quickly and they tried to battle it. It was then that the Tendlers showed up-- Moses and the son, Silas. They had been out of town and only just arrived back. Apparently Moses helped to pull a man from his burning house, or so the workers told us. The Tendlers continued to help-- and they managed to save some of the buildings, but by then most of the estate was gone. The last anyone saw of them was when they left in a fury, heading to the home of the brother-in-law, Jacob Marteis.”

Jude was drinking in the story, lost to all other sensations. When the Edori paused, he blinked in surprise.

“Do you want to sit down?” Jonathan asked, offering the stool he had been sitting on. Jude wasn’t sure if he felt tired or energetic, but he took the offered seat all the same. Jonathan moved around the table settled himself on the cot and resumed the story.

“Jacob-- did you meet him? Yes, he lives just on the other side of the stream. His estate was spared. We went straight there to investigate. The whole house is empty.” He paused, whether for dramatic effect or because the story was over, Jude was not sure. 

“That’s it?” Jude asked almost impatiently. He did not want to sound rude, but he was desperate for more information. 

“Well…” Jonathan said, as if reluctant.

“We found blood,” Peter supplied, not looking up from the paper he was writing on. He seemed able to write and talk at the same time. “Quite a bit, too. On the floor of the entrance hall.” He paused to dip his pen in an ink bottle but did not continue talking.

Jude felt like his own blood was leaving his body. He suddenly felt very cold. “Blood,” he said in a soft voice. “Enough… enough to-- Is someone dead?” He found it hard to get the words out, as if his throat was very dry.

“It is hard to say,” Jonathan said in a gentle voice. He was watching Jude with his soft brown eyes, as if trying to calm a horse. “We have not found anyone.”

“No bodies, he means,” interjected Peter.

Jude’s head was swimming. A day ago he had simply thought Silas was a jerk. This afternoon he thought he was homeless. Now, he wondered if he was dead. Jude was having trouble breathing, but he struggled to remain composed. He couldn’t be dead-- who would want to kill Silas? He was just some pompous Manadavvi boy, no harm to anyone.

“What about the uncle?” he forced himself to say. “What about his household?”

“All gone,” said Jonathan, now looking back to his table. “We have been compiling a list of those who worked there, but it hasn’t been easy. I don’t mind the travel, but the rain has made it difficult.”

“And no help from the damn angels,” Peter said as gruffly as ever. This time he actually looked up and narrowed his grey-eyed gaze on Jude. “Took off almost right away. They prefer to  _ look _ , apparently. They don’t have  _ time  _ for clues.” He frowned picked up his pen again.

Jude opened his mouth as if to protest, but he was in no position to defend against what he was quite ready to do himself. He felt they were wasting time already, and Silas could be dying somewhere. “I just want to help,” he said in a small voice. “What can I do?”

Jonathan took out a fresh piece of paper and dipped his pen in the ink. “Tell me everything you know about the Tendler family, including everyone you met in their acquaintance.” 

It took the better part of an hour to go over everything Jude remembered about his visits to Manadavvi. At first he told the story in a linear way, but then he kept remembering names and had to jump back to different times. In the end Jonathan’s notes were full of scratched out words and little asides. He spent some minutes after Jude was finished rubbing his chin, where there was a shadow of a beard.

“Thank you, Jude,” he said then. “This is much more information than we had before.” He slid the page aside and put it side by side with the list he was working on. “I can match many of the names. And it shouldn’t be hard to track down these cousins.” His eyes were moving quickly through the names, and he could underline a few and then write even more words in the margin. After a few moments of silence, Jude wondered if he wasn’t supposed to excuse himself. He cleared his voice.

“Is there anything else I can do?” he asked tentatively. Privately he wanted to be back on wing, searching. It was starting to occur to him that these men were smarter than he was, and that their methods should be trusted. All the same it was hard to sit still as they did.

Jonathan looked up from the list to Jude and then back down again. “Yes,” he said finally. “You can visit some of the people on here.” He quickly jotted down a few lines and handed the paper to Jude. “You might remember them. They may be able to answer some questions. They may even know where Moses or his family are.” Jude took the paper and read a few names. Yes, these were guests of the Tendlers. He did not know them well, but he could at least bring their faces to mind. “Bring back any information you discover here before you do anything else,” added Jonathan.

“I can do that,” he said numbly, nodding to add some emphasis. He waited while Jonathan compiled a list of interview questions then took both letters and put them in a breast pocket on his flying leathers. He stood, standing just for a moment awkwardly over the two men. “Thank you,” he said, not really sure what he was thanking them for. They nodded to him anyway and he left the tent.

The rain had slackened since he entered the tent, but the sun had already set behind the clouds. Jude knew he should find an inn to spend the night before flying to the addresses in his pocket, but he didn’t think he would sleep anyway. So he took a few steps and launched into the cool air. 

 

\------------

 

The investigation went poorly for Jude. He visited each name on the list, flying from estate to farm house to estate. After the first interview he found himself so exhausted that he was forced to find an inn afterall. It was small and cramped with a tiny bed that did not fit his wings. He slept fitfully, dreaming of blood and rain and woke feeling more exhausted than before. 

He spent two days in this way, meeting more Manadavvi than he cared to meet and asking the same questions: “When did you last see Moses or Silas Tendler? When did you last see Jacob Marteis? What do you know of the Tendler estate?” When he explained to lords and ladies in their fancy plush rooms what had happened to the Tendlers, they put on looks of astonishment and sorrow. No doubt rumour of the estate in flames had spread quickly but he didn’t think this meant that they knew any more than they were telling about the Tendlers.

By the morning of the third day Jude was feeling tired, worn and heartsick. He had no new information to bring back to the detectives and he was sure that it was too late anyway. He tried not to think about Silas’ body being found days later in a river or field somewhere. It was bad enough that he saw it in his dreams without also dwelling on it during the day.

The last person on the list was a trader who was supposed to be in the town of Windstop for a week. The trader dealt in rare drinks-- whiskies and wines that were unavailable anywhere else. Upon arriving in the town on an overcast day, Jude did not hesitate in asking the first pedestrian he saw if he knew of such a person. He was directed to the market, where several stalls were set up in the early morning.

A stall filled with nothing but handsome bottles filled with honey coloured liquid was not hard to miss. Jude made straight for it, ignoring the calls of other merchants selling their goods.

A woman met him with a wide, toothy smile and wrinkles around her eyes that suggested she smiled a lot. She had a wild amount of black hair that she tried to calm with a brilliantly purple handkerchief. She didn’t look Manadavvi.

“Angelo, it is a pleasure to serve you!” the woman said at once. Jude thought she might look part Edori, but he didn’t take the time to mull it over.

“I need to ask you some questions,” he said at once, skipping all of the pleasantries and getting straight to the heart. “I am here from the Tendler estate.”

The woman’s face dropped and she suddenly looked very serious. “Yes, I heard,” she said a little quieter. “It is a great tragedy.” Jude was glad of that, at least. He was sick of explaining the situation to people who pretended they didn’t already know the details.

“You were at the Tendler estate, were you not?”

The woman nodded slowly. “Yes, two weeks ago. Jacob Marteis is a great collector of whiskies, as I am.” Her face subtly changed, like she was remembering something unpleasant. “I didn’t like him very much.”

Jude, who was so used to the same questions being met with the same answers felt a little jab of hope. “Why not?” he pressed.

The trader gave him a look like he should already know what she was talking about. “He was one of those men-- you know, who think they can have everything? After buying my goods he asked how much I would cost. Ha!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am an even rarer vintage, and far beyond the price of gold.” 

Jude couldn’t help but frown. While this was new information, a character reference was not what he had been hoping for. “And what of the Tendlers-- Moses and Silas?”

The woman shrugged. “I did not deal with them. I do not know where they might have gone, if that is what you are asking. Jacob on the other hand,” She paused mid-sentence to put a finger on her lower lip. “Where did he say. Ah, yes. He tried to tempt me to find him at his beach home. Away from his wife, you know.”

Jude stepped forward involuntarily. “Where? I mean, did he tell you where this home was?” He was suddenly excited again, grasping on this shred of knowledge with all of the hope he had left.

“Oh, yes. He was quite specific!”

Jude wanted badly to take to wing and immediately make for the beach home that the trader described. He wrote down the instructions with a shaking hand and thanked the woman several times. She grinned all the while, no doubt realizing how happy this information made him. After leaving, Jude thought he should have compensated her, but it was too late and he had wasted too much time already. He had told the detectives that he would return to them with information first, and it was only a short flight. He would talk to them first then make straight for the beach house.

 

\------------

 

The storms may have subsided on the mainland, but dark clouds lining the ocean horizon suggested that the coast was not going to stay dry. Underfoot, the white sand was dark as if it had rained recently. The wind was wicked, gusting in spurts and bringing unusually cold air.

Jacob Marteis’ beach house was the only building for several miles of sandy coastline, built fairly close to the water and nearly matching his mansion in size. A long dock had been built to accommodate large private boats, and there was one such moored now, dancing up and down on the rough water. 

_ It means he is likely still here _ , Jude thought with relief when he touched down on a grassy bluff that overlooked the house. It was settled in a spot that was not easily seen by travellers on foot, but they had all arrived by wing.

Jude set down his charge: Peter had relented and allowed the young angel to carry him here. Beside him landed Selene, who carried Jonathan. The other angel was Jude’s senior in both age and capability. Now in her twenties, she was not necessarily beautiful, but other leadership skills made her popular in Monteverde. She was a clear choice as Herod’s successor.

“The boat is still here, which means he hasn’t gotten wind of us yet,” Selene said, echoing Jude’s thoughts. When Jude had returned with his information about the beach house, the detectives had insisted that they wait for the senior angel to come as back up, as well as for the ease of travel. It had taken her nearly a whole day to return, and Jude was afraid that Jacob would flee during that time. Luckily, the beach house looked occupied. Apparently Jacob was convinced no one knew about his hideout except a few good-looking women.

They approached the house on foot, making no attempt at stealth or secrecy. After all, if Jacob attempted to flee, he would be easily overcome by an angel. Furthermore, Selene was an extremely straight-forward and honest angel, which further accounted for the trust others put in her. It wasn’t her style to creep or hide. She even knocked courteously on the door.

Jacob Marteis, on the other hand, wasn’t about to meet the angels head on. As the four of them waited none-too-patiently at the door there came a thump and the sound of breaking glass from another entrance. Jude took off at a run in the direction of the sound. He sensed Selene taking wing and the detectives hot on his heels. As he rounded the corner of the house a gust of wind caught his wings and made him stumble, but he was quick to press on.

After all: there was Jacob Marteis, looking much less composed than usual with his arms full of a heavy bag and a stunned look on his face. He locked eyes with the oncoming angel for just a moment before he ran in the opposite direction, along the south side of the house and towards the sea. At a sprint, he might have been able to reach the dock and his awaiting boat. However, great white wings heaved in front of him as the tall angela landed in his path. For a moment, Jacob seemed ready to dodge and keep running, but he thought better of it.

“What?! What do you want? You are intruders on my land!” Jacob spat. “Have you come to rob me?” He could not hide the desperation in his voice. Jude knew suddenly that the man was guilty. He had caused the fire at the Tendler estate and brought harm to the men who called it home. In a few great strides Jude was standing in front of him. 

Jude was by no means the angel that Herod was. He barely matched the height of Selene and his wingspan was not that impressive. But he was an angel still and he could feel the might and power of the generations before him boiling under his skin. He let the rage take over his face and his voice. 

“Where are they?!” he boomed. Jacob looked like a frightened cat, no longer sleek and cool but tense and ugly. “Where is Silas?!” Jude stepped closer still to the man who stumbled back and dropped the bag he held with a  _ thud _ . 

Under all the holy rage and intimidation that coursed through his veins, Jude was terrified. He wasn’t afraid of Jacob of course: the man was outnumbered and defeated. Jude was afraid that they were too late, and that the wretched man would tell him that Silas was dead. A picture of Silas’ face-- watching the angel with a sideways glance, his mouth turned in a playful smirk-- was burning in Jude’s mind. 

“Tell me!”

Jacob had tripped on a tuft of beach grass and stumbled to a sitting position. He looked with wide eyes to Selene who was taking her place beside Jude to tower over the man. Then he looked back to Jude and opened his mouth. “I don’t know!” he all but screamed. His desperation was reaching a peak. “I dumped them-- somewhere down the Tro-- Trains Road South.” He was grasping blindly for his bag that was well out of his reach.

“Dumped them?” questioned Jonathan, who was standing his beyond Jude. He was oddly calm. “Are they alive?”

Jacob nodded quickly, as he must have seen to look come across Jude’s face. “P-probably. We had a fight. He came at me and I was just defending myself!” the man was speaking quickly now and trying to come to his knees. “He accused me of burning the manor--” He loosed a nervous little laugh. “As if I would destroy what I helped to create! He was mad was grief. He wouldn’t listen! I had to defend myself!”

Jude strained his ears to hear a name, any indication of who Jacob was talking about. “Who? Who was mad?” 

“Nevermind. It wasn’t my fault! You can’t accuse me without proof. Without witnesses!” Jacob seemed to be gaining some strength from his own lies and he got himself to shaky feet. “I can stand trial. I can have someone speak for me. I have the right to that!”

There was something in that self-preserving speech that made Jude snap. He had never really hit anyone before, but he had a vague concept of how it worked: ball your hand into a fit and let loose. Jacob fell backwards again, one hand flying to his nose where Jude’s fist had made contact. Selene was quick to grab Jude by the wrist and Jonathan was on the other side. 

“Alright, Jude,” he said in his calming way. “We’ll take it from here.” Jude turned to look at the detective, the fury not fading from his face. Jonathan met his look with quiet, dark eyes. “If you go now, you may find them yet.” He was talking about Silas. “The Trains Road South leaves from the Tendler estate towards the Plains of Sharon. Go now.” 

Jude didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped back from the group, his eyes going from Jonathan, to Selene and then to Jacob, whose nose was bleeding from under his hand. There was no need to hesitate. He spread his wings and launched purposefully into the sky.


	9. Silas' Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another long one. Pardons.

For the first time in days, Silas felt excruciating pain in his leg. The force of the feeling made him wake up from his uneasy sleep and immediately prop himself up on one of his elbows. He stared down at his leg as his heart began to beat faster. 

Pain was a good thing. His injured leg had been numb for several days, suggesting that the tissue was dead and he was likely to lose the limb. The infection had been bad: his leg had been the colour of an overripe blueberry from the knee down. Not that he had spent much time looking at it. Instead he had been in a fever that had turned his sleep over to nightmares and his waking moments to delirium.

“M-Miranda?” he called cautiously. He was alone in the little tent, fairly snug amongst layers of blankets on a soft palate. “Miranda!” he called a little more desperately. It was not like Silas to call out in such an undignified manner. A week ago he would not have shouted in such a way, but then, a week ago he had not been among the Edori.

An older woman poked her head in the tent, her dark face creased with open worry. “What’s wrong, my boy?” she asked gently. She entered the tent, dressed in practical leathers under a simple green dress-- good for travel, though they hadn’t moved for several days. She settled herself near Silas’ torso and retrieved a wet rag from the bowl beside his head. “How are you feeling?”

“My leg,” Silas said at once. He winced as he shifted but produced a smile. “I can feel it.”

Miranda actually gasped and helped Silas uncover the limb. It was still mottled with colour, but instead of dark it glowed an angry red. The bandage showed no new bleeding. “Yovah bless you!”

Silas was grinning-- a real smile, of course. It was hard not to be open with one’s emotions when with the Edori. They were so honest with their feelings, and so giving of their love. And Silas was in no position to be haughty.

In fact, he had been barely conscious when they had first come across him. He vaguely remembered a tent being erected around him and at some point he ended up on a soft palate. It wasn’t until several days later that he was able to make sense of his surroundings, let alone scoff at them. The Edori were thought about little by his Manadavvi brethren, and when they came up in conversation is was as if they were talking about wild cows-- cute, harmless and unimportant in civilized society. 

But Miranda, Geoff, Liam and the others of the Kalashii clan were nothing if not civil. Their food, water, shelter, medicine and love were all freely given. They had wrapped Silas in a blanket of care and good will, and slowly he was recovering.

Granted, he hadn’t seen much outside this tent. Silas had heard that the Edori slept all in one big tent like puppies in a pile, but no one bothered him during his sleep but to nurse him back to health. Each time he woke from his delirium a new clan member was kneeling by his side, feeding and tending his wounds. He learned their names and where they were headed, and he was even favoured with bits of gossip that meant little to him but kept his mind in the present. Sometimes the company felt as healing as a cold cloth, a pill of medicine or a swallow of food. 

Besides his leg, which was torn badly by a blade, Silas had a broken collarbone, broken finger and a black eye that felt like it covered half of his face. His face had been his first injury, from his fist fight with his Uncle Jacob. The second was the wound on his leg, which Jacob had torn a chunk out of when he drew a wicked knife from his boot. The third had been the broken bones, when Silas’ bleeding body had been thrown unceremoniously from the back of the wagon and left for dead.

None of these could compare to the horrible throbbing pain in his chest. Moses Tendler-- stupid, simple Moses Tendler-- was dead. When he saw Jacob draw a knife on his son he had flew at the man, unarmed, like an idiot. However, blind fury was not much against a blade and Jacob had plunged it deep into his brother-in-law’s chest. Moses had fallen with a heavy thud and a few heartbeats later Silas’ father was dead. 

Silas had laid on the floor by his father, grasping at the blood splurting in waves out of his leg. His vision was failing, but he kept his eyes on the man, as if waiting for him to wake up. Silas vaguely remembered trying to keep himself awake, just long enough to make sure his father was OK.

The Edori of the Kalashii clan had found no one else when they stumbled upon Silas’ bleeding body. Moses Tendler would be no doubt resting in some unmarked grave, a simple man remembered only by his ungrateful son. He had saved Silas’ life, after all, and Silas would never be able to repay him. 

Silas shared none of this with his Edori caretakers, and none of them pressed him for information. To them his past was not important-- he was a man in need and he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. Even Silas did not know how long that would be. In fact, he wasn’t even sure where he would go from here.

When Silas thought about it, he realized that without his father and with an Uncle who resorted to arson to express his hatred, there was no one left to run to. His ties to the upperclass Manadavvi circles were superficial at best. All of his supposed friendships and alliances were fleeting and insecure. For so long he had flown like pieces of spider silk, catching of flowers and leaves as he blew in the wind. His father was the closest thing to ‘home’, and even that relationship he had taken for granted. 

It was Jude’s face that appeared most often when Silas closed his eyes. He knew it was foolish to think he had any place in the angel’s life, but he couldn’t help but wish things had turned out differently. More than anyone else in the world-- even more than his father-- he missed that stubborn, innocent angel. Upon reflecting on this fact Silas was, not for the first time, overwhelmed by how strong feelings could arise from a real, true friendship. The grief in his heart was made worse for it.

Miranda seemed to be able to sense Silas’ grief. She visited him the most often, being a senior member of the clan and the most adept at healing. However, she was also the warmest with smiles like a summer breeze. She was how Silas imaged a mother would be.

“Today you will come out of this cave,” she was telling Silas as she gently washed the leg around his bandaging. “When you feel the sun on your face your heart will feel light.” Silas made no attempt to lie or deny his feelings. He let Miranda’s soothing words soak into his skin. “You can sit by the fire and enjoy companionship. That is the surest path to recovery.”

Later that afternoon Miranda helped Silas dress in clean cotton clothing and bind his arm tightly to his chest. Liam, who was one of the strongest men in the clan, came to help the invalid onto one foot. The two men moved together to form a awkward three-legged creature that somehow made it to the fire before either was too winded. Silas blinked against the brightness of the sky and took a deep breath of fresh air. Miranda was right-- the sun on his face felt wonderful. 

The clan members who were not busy with camp tasks came to the fire to sit and rejoice at Silas’ recovery. Some of the children came to prod and question at his injury, and they were told off by Miranda. Silas let a faint smile touch his features. Everyone else was so happy in this camp, it was hard not to join at least a little bit.

Before long, Silas was overwhelmed with fatigue and was taken back to the tent once more. When he returned to a lying position, Miranda joined him and stayed until they were alone. She looked oddly serious, but Silas had noticed she was prone to moments such as these. He wondered what sadness she might have known in her life.

“Silas,” she started in a gentle tone. “We Edori are not fast moving people. We  travel when it suits us and live lives free of structure and schedules. However,” She paused to look him over: studying his eyes, glancing at his cheeks and chin. “You are a young man with plans for the future. And so I would like to help you decide what you will do next.”

Silas watched the older woman. She was very careful in her manner of speech, coming across as neither impatient or suggestive. Whatever he did decide, she was going to support his decision, even if he chose to stay forever with the Edori. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted and suddenly he felt tears burning his eyes. He wanted to hold them back-- after all, it had been decades since he had shed a single tear in front of another person, but he was so tired. He closed his eyes and felt the tear roll down the side of his face. He wiped it away with his good hand and took a breath. Miranda said nothing. “My home is gone. My father is--” He paused to compose himself and quickly wipe away another tear. “I am friendless, homeless,  _ worthless _ .” He put his only free palm against an eye as if he could stop himself from crying.

Finally Miranda spoke. Her tone was soothing, but also determined. “No soul is worthless,” she corrected. “And no one is friendless. Have you not found a place here?”

Silas took a breath and finished wiping his face, though it was hard with one hand. “Yes, I am grateful. But…” 

“...This is not your place,” Miranda finished for him. She did not sound disappointed or offended. It was a simple fact that she had realized herself long before starting this conversation. “You have other friends. No one is completely alone.”

Silas let out a laugh completely devoid of mirth. “Where I grew up… friendship meant something different than it no doubt does to your people.”

“The Manadavvi can seem unfeeling and calculated,” Miranda said without shame. “But they are not without hearts.”

Silas opened his mouth in surprise, but then, Miranda was not stupid. She had known all along that he was a Manadavvi. Considering where they were and the clothing they had found Silas in, it should not have been a hard conclusion to come to. 

“I wish I didn’t have a heart,” Silas said after a stretch of silence. To this, Miranda actually scoffed.

“So thousands of other heart-broken young men and women have said before you,” she said with a subtle roll of her eyes. She smiled to the young man to soften the insult. “If you feel that way, then there must be someone who you care about.”

Silas pictured Jude again, not for the first time today. “I don’t think he cares much for me.”

“A problem easily remedied.” Miranda was smiling now, as if she had already solved the problem. “You are a good person, Silas. Even if you don’t believe it yourself. And you are young-- there is so much time to mend broken relationships. I foresee a long life full of friends and lovers in your future.” 

“I don’t want lots of friends and lovers,” Silas admitted. “I just want one.”

“A friend or lover?” Miranda asked bluntly. Silas looked at her so suddenly he felt a pain shoot through his collarbone. He winced and watched as the older lady let out a jolly laugh. “Nevermind,” she said in her mirth. “You will have to decide that yourself.” She half-stood and started making her way to the entrance flap of the tent. Silas, who was too embarrassed and stunned to retort, let her go. “We shall pray that your health allows you to take dinner with us tomorrow.”

 

\------------

 

The next day Miranda presented Silas with a cane. It was roughly carved but exactly the right size for him. Feeling on the mend, he allowed himself to be helped out of the tent once more the next evening for a meal. So far he had taken all his meals in the little tent, but it felt good today to join the group around the fire. His recognized most of the faces by now, but there were a few others who hadn’t tended to him-- a few children, an old woman who must have been over 80 and a couple of young girls who sat directly beside Silas. 

The food was simple but delicious-- a rabbit stew accompanied by fresh bread. Silas had smelled it baking during the day. He allowed his bowl to be filled a second time before he felt full and the sensation was wonderful. He did not speak much and instead chose to listen to the family members (were they all family?) banter and joke, console and advise. The only ones who tried to press him for conversation were the girls

“Where are you from, Silas?” one of them asked-- her name was Katherine.

“Don’t pester him,” chided Miranda, who never seemed to be too far from Silas. “His business is his own.”

Silas smiled. “I don’t mind. It is no secret-- I grew up on an estate in the Manadavvi lands, near the coast.” The girls both made impressed noises and lept to ask more questions-- Did he have lots of jewels? Did he ever travel? What was it like having a cook? What were the parties like? These simple Edori girls were completely enthralled by the lifestyle that he explained to them, though there was a disagreement between them on whether it was a preferable way of life.

“I would get so  _ bored _ ,” said Faith, who looked a little older. “Under a single roof overhead and nothing to do all the time.”

“But to not have to cook!” insisted Katherine. “To rest your feet on cushions and tell someone else to fetch the water.” She gasped suddenly. “ _ Hot _ water!”

Silas watched with amusement as the two girls amiably bickered about the two ways of life. No doubt this was a good-natured argument that they had shared many times before. They were both young and spirited, and agreeable to look at. In another world, Silas would be tempted to seduce one of them--likely Faith, who seemed the harder target. Tonight he was happy only for the open conversations and honest company. Here, there was no need to put on fake smiles. There was a general feeling of trust that should have made Silas feel uncomfortable. Instead it made him wistful.

A light rain started to patter down after the meal, causing the fire to hiss. It was generally agreed that it was best to turn in early and avoid the storm that had been predicted by the adults. Silas offered to help clean up, but he was roundly refused by everyone and he instead watched as they went about cleaning dishes and putting out the fire. Most of the family trickled off into two big, communal tents. They did all sleep together, after all, he noted. For all he was enjoying of the Edori way of life, he was not quick to give up his own private tent, no matter how small.

After he had been helped back into bed, Silas lay alone for a while listening to the rain as it grew more steady. The strong canvas of the tent had managed to keep out the other showers so far, but he wondered how it would fair against a full storm. The wind rocked the tent in a gentle sway, lulling the Manadavvi into a doze.

His last thought were reflections on his conversation with Miranda. “ _ A friend or lover? _ ” she had asked. At the time Silas was only shocked at such an implication and embarrassed that he might have led someone to believe the latter. In his half-sleeping state, he mused over the words.  _ Friend or lover?  _

 

\------------

 

Silas woke up sometime before the sun with a need to relieve himself. Unwilling to call out for help as he had before, he propped himself onto one arm and reached for the cane. The first task was putting on the felt hooded coat that Liam had lent him. Silas put one hand through the arm and left the other side hanging over his shoulder. It was not going to be impervious to the rain, but it would have to do. It was a few more minutes of careful movements and labour before Silas was half standing, half leaning on his cane just at the mouth of the tent. Careful not to put too much weight on his leg (which still hurt, but was clearly improving), he hobbled slowly out into the rain.

It was a spring rain, like so many others that he had experienced in the last 22 years he had lived in Gaza. It was heavy but strangely warm, soaking through but not chilling you to the bone. Silas raised his hooded head to let a few drops fall on his nose and cheeks. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation for a few quiet moments before continuing to make his painful progress to the edge of camp where he found privacy.

By the time he was starting to make his journey back to his tent Silas was exhausted and sore. The arm that leaned on the cane was worn out and the leg he was not supposed to be putting weight on was throbbing in pain. The spring rain which had been so pleasing at first had starting to soak through the coat and into his linen top. He was about half way back when he started to consider calling out for assistance. It was a last resort.

He was held up suddenly by a commotion back at the centre of camp. There were voices near his destination, some of them sounding desperate. The overcast sky had lightened and Silas could make out a few figures moving about in the rain. Then there was a call of recognition from someone who sounded like Miranda and suddenly something shot up into the sky. A heartbeat later a flurry of wings and wet leather had appeared in front of him, nearly making him topple backwards.

Silas barely had time to recognize the angel Jude before he was enveloped in a tight wet hug that sent a shock of pain through his collarbone. When he yelped, Silas was released just as suddenly, though Jude would not let go of his shoulders. 

In the half darkness Silas could just make out the wide, green eyes staring at him with a wild expression. Jude’s lips were half parted as if he was going to say something, though no words came out. He looked down at Silas’ arm, still slung to his body under the coat. Then his eyes travelled to his cane and leg, and then back to his face.

“Hi,” Jude said suddenly and breathlessly. Silas couldn’t help it. He gave himself over to a fit of laughter while Jude stepped back, unsure of what was going on. Other clan members had gathered nearby, including Miranda. Silas reached out to her, steadying himself in his moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said to everyone, but looking at Jude. “It’s just…” He took a much needed breath. “Your manners are…” He shook his head. He wasn’t sure he could explain why the situation was so funny. Maybe he was just so happy that the only way to express himself was in laughter. “It is so good to see you, Jude.”

Jude’s face was unreadable. He looked unhappy, almost as if he was going to cry. Then he smiled, and at that moment a glint of sunlight broke through the clouds on the horizon. Silas could not take his eyes off of the angel. He was determined to burn this image in his memory forever, whatever might happen afterwards. 

“Come, let’s get out of the rain,” said Miranda, and suddenly Liam materialized by Silas’ side to offer him aid. 

“I-- Do- do you need help?” stammered Jude suddenly. It warmed Silas’ heart considerably to hear Jude so nervous. It seemed he was back to normal. 

Liam stepped aside to let Silas lean on the angel instead. Silas put an arm around Jude a bit awkwardly, trying not to touch the sensitive feathers that connected at his shoulder muscles and simultaneously trying to convince himself that this was no different than having Liam cart him around. Somehow it felt  _ completely _ different.

As a group they hobbled back to the cooking tables, over which a tarp had been erected to keep the area mostly dry. There was no room here for a fire, but one of the other women handed around a few thick blankets for each to put around themselves while they sat on the little clearing on the ground. Liam lit a gas light and placed it in the centre of the gathering.

Silas sank to the ground appreciatively and with a small groan. Jude must have been worried for him, because he lowered him extremely slowly and carefully. Once he was settled, he sat himself down, fanning his wet wings behind him. He was watching Silas in the growing light.

“Well now,” started Miranda, who sat across from them in the little make-shift circle. “I am Miranda of the Kalashii. You are welcome here at our camp.” It seemed something of a custom to welcome any traveller to the camp, no matter how sudden and unexpected their arrival. 

“My name is Jude,” the angel began, his eyes going from one Edori face to the next. “I was looking for my… my friend.” Silas caught a small sideways glance from Jude, and wondered how he was supposed to interpret the hesitation.

“It warms my heart that Silas has such a devoted friend,” said Miranda honestly. She looked at Silas and gave him the strangest smile. Suddenly he remembered their last conversation and felt his stomach give a small flutter. 

Jude was stuttering again in a way that meant he was overwhelmed. Silas tried to inspect him in the lamplight. Besides looking wet and bedraggled, he also looked tired and pale as if he had not slept properly. His cheeks were tinted pink with from exercise and his eyes were bright. Somehow, he was more attractive than ever. 

Silas looked away suddenly and saw Miranda watching him. Embarrassed, he looked further still, to where the sun was peeking out through a ragged line of clouds. 

“A-a number of Monteverde angels are on the lookout,” Jude was saying. “I am part of the patrol. I was sent by Herod. The archangel, I mean.” Silas wondered if that meant he hadn’t come on his own volition. “They will be glad to know he is in such good hands.” This was meant to be a compliment, but Silas imagined the Edori thought little of what the archangel thought of them. Still, they were smiling happily.

“Silas, how are you feeling?” Miranda said suddenly, or at least, it seemed sudden to Silas who was lost in thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, better. It hurts to walk, but it’s getting better.”

Jude rounded on him, as if suddenly realizing something. “Where is Moses?” he demanded. “Where is your father?”

There was a silence while Silas tried to collect himself from the forceful questions. Finally he said: “Dead.” The silence that followed was just as profound. Silas was holding eye contact with Jude, who opened his mouth to say something. He was going to say ‘I’m sorry’, surely, but the angel didn’t seem to have it in him. He half lifted a hand, with which to touch or gesture, Silas had no idea. 

“It-- It’s a long story,” Silas said finally to break the tension. “I will tell you some day. Right now I am tired and sore.” He hadn’t meant to sound so dismissive, so he offered Jude a little smile.

They agreed to get some more sleep and make further decisions after Silas was rested. The Edori offered room in their tents for Jude to sleep, but the angel shook his head and convinced them that his wings would take up far too much room-- besides, he wasn’t tired. Silas could see that the angel was  _ very _ tired, but he stayed silent. However, it was still raining, so Silas offered his own tent.

“Tired or not, you can sit in my tent,” he said, struggling to keep a cool and collected face. “There’s plenty of room and I am used to nursemaids by now.” It was meant to be a little joke, but neither he nor Jude seemed to want to laugh. The angel agreed in the end.

The tent was barely large enough to accommodate Jude’s wings, but the angel made an effort to ball himself up as much as possible to avoid letting them drip on Silas’ feet. He sat near the entrance to the tent, his arms hugging his legs and his chin resting on his knees. Without his wingspan, he seemed so small. 

“Are you cold?” asked Silas once he had shed the wet coat and settled under a number of blankets. 

“Never,” said Jude, blinking in the half light. “Angel’s have warm blood, remember.”

“Sounds nice,” Silas murmured. He was so tired, but he wanted to enjoy a few moments of bliss before he was reminded that Jude didn’t really like him at all. He fought to keep his eyes open and watch the angel where he sat. “I am glad,” Silas added. “So glad to see you.”

Jude shifted in his seat and didn’t reply right away. “I thought you were dead,” he said in a small voice. “It was…scary.”

Silas might have laughed at how much Jude sounded like a little boy, but he was moved by the honest confession. “Don’t you know the world doesn’t revolve around me?” he asked sleepily.

At this Jude actually let out a laugh which made Silas grin. “Not all of it, no.”


	10. Jude's Friend

“We came back at around midnight, coming up on the southern road to the orchard gatehouse. Leal had made arrangements to visit his sister in Applecres and had separated from us the day before. It was just me and my father that night, and we were both anxious to sleep in our own beds that night. So we pushed on well after dark.”

Jude watched Silas as he sat across from Jonathan at his little wooden table. They had set up the interview in a local tavern, occupying a whole room and promising to compensate the owner. The room seemed all the smaller for having a several bodies in it-- three with wings. Selene and Manny watched the Manadavvi boy with interest, eager to hear his tale. Jonathan was writing in his quick, efficient way. Peter stood by the door listening.

“We saw the smoke first, lit by the fire and we knew right away something was wrong. He drove the horses until we came to the orchard. There was no saving the trees but Moses-- my father-- spotted the workers trying to put the fires out on the buildings. He went to help them right away. I followed. He managed to--” Silas cleared his throat and took a drink of the water the innkeeper had provided them. “He helped them free a man from the fire. I just watched.” He was silent for a moment before he pressed on. 

“We knew it was Jacob right away. Jacob Marteis. I knew he didn’t like Moses. He was always jealous of my mother for getting the lion’s share of the inheritance. He tolerated Moses because he was easy to manipulate. But he took our invitation to the Spring Dinner as an insult. The idea that… that a man of low breeding was rising in society faster than him was insufferable. I understood how he felt but I was only thinking of myself at the time. I didn’t stop to wonder if he might try to retaliate. But when I saw the house in flames and all of my father’s work destroyed I knew it was Jacob and I was furious.”

“I went straight to Jacob’s house. Most of the servants had been dismissed for the night and even Laline was gone-- his wife. But we caught Jacob trying to pack a wagon to flee to his beach home. He thought we didn’t know about that place, but honestly.” He gave a look to his listeners as if they would understand. When no one reacted he plowed on. “I caught him at the front door. He was so guilty, from his sweating face to the crate of whisky that he was packing for a long stay in his hideout. I attacked him.”

This much of the story Jude had guessed, from pieces that Jacob had admitted as well as the wounds Silas had sustained.

“We were fighting and he must have had a knife somewhere because he ripped into my leg. At first I thought a dog had bit me-- maybe one of his hunting hounds. But when I fell back from him he was holding a knife and was about to come at me again with it. That’s when my father roared like a bear and dove at him.” Silas took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

Jude marvelled at how honest the story was so far. The Silas from a few weeks ago would have embellished and lied as necessary to put himself in the best light. The Silas of today was making it seem like he was the guilty party. The next part was going to be hard, because the way it was going suggested that Moses died to save his son. 

“I don’t know--” Silas’ voice was no longer steady and he stopped to breathe. “I don’t know where he put the body.”

“There were marks on the floor to suggest you were both dragged,” supplied Peter from his place by the door. “But after the threshold we couldn’t track the movements. Likely he took Moses somewhere where no one would find him.”

Silas was nodding slowly, but his eyes were distant.

“You were found by the Edori?” asked Jonathan, to keep the story rolling. 

“Yes,” said Silas. “I don’t know how long I was on my own, and how long they took care of me. My leg was infected from the stab and I broke my collarbone-- probably when Jacob tossed me out of the wagon. They took care of me and I got better-- mostly.”

Jude involuntarily looked at Silas’ leg. He was still unable to put any weight on it. Furthermore, his arm was still in a sling. It would be some time before he was whole again. Even this interview seemed to be tiring him.

They had left the Edori that very morning. When Silas awoke he decided he was well enough to travel. They made their farewell to the Kalashii, promising to return to give a proper thanks. It was unclear if the clan members were happy or sad to see him go, but they smiled none the less. Jude carried Silas in his arms, careful to not clutch too tightly and hurt him further. It was a blissfully short journey back to the Tendler estate, because the silence had been excruciatingly awkward. 

“It will be hard to prove he took part in the arson,” Selene said to fill the silence. He had a finger on her lips that suggested she was thinking hard. “It is your word against his. Is there enough of a case, Jon?”

Jonathan was finishing a sentence on the newest page. “I believe there is,” he said with a smile. “With the blood at the house and the stories collected from the workers, we should be able to cobble something together.”

“Good, then we will take our report to the archangel and await your arrival in Monteverde.” Selene stood up straight and made to leave. Jonathan stood to shake her hand and bid farewell. “Are you coming with us, Jude?” Selene added when she paused at the door.

Jude looked at Silas, who hadn’t stood up. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. He was looking at his glass of water on the table, apparently not listening to anyone. “I-- I might stay for a while.” Selene nodded and she and Manny left the tavern.

Jonathan was collecting his papers and putting them in a leather saddlebag. “Thank you Silas, Jude,” he said gently as he slowly went about his work. “We will be staying in a room upstairs if you need us. Otherwise we will see you by and by in Monteverde.” His eyes lingered on Silas, who continued not to move.

When the detectives were gone, the empty room seemed large. A big window on the west wall showed that the setting sun was starting to come out from behind ever more rain clouds.

“Well, that’s over with,” Silas said suddenly, stretching one arm with a smile. Jude frowned and came over to sit on the stool Jonathan had vacated. He watched Silas closely, trying to figure out what he was really thinking. “What?” asked Silas defensively.

“You look terrible,” Jude said honestly.

“Thanks a lot,” Silas replied sarcastically. “Let’s knock you around a bit and see how you look afterwards.” He leaned on the table and sagged onto his one arm. “Yes, I am exhausted. Yes, I am in pain. Is that what you want to hear?”

Jude gave him a searching look. “But how do you feel?”

“Didn’t I just answer that question?” Silas asked, sounding a little annoyed.

“I mean,” Jude said carefully. “You just went through an ordeal. You lost your house. You lost your family. How do you  _ feel _ ?”

Silas’ face fell, not quite to a frown, but the smile was gone. “I am feeling grateful that you found me,” he said, which was not what Jude had expected to hear. “I am feeling surprised that anyone still cares about me. I feel like I wasted years with my father, the only person that might have loved me. I feel guilty. I feel ashamed. I feel afraid that I will never have a place in this world again.”

Jude wasn’t sure what to say to that. Silas had been honest with him before, sure, but this was more than he ever expected to hear. He felt his heart squeeze with sympathy. How could he help this person, who had gone from the top all the way to the bottom in such a short time?

Silas was inspecting the glass of water again.

“You have a place in Monteverde,” Jude offered. It had already been decided that Silas would stay-- at least temporarily-- in the angel hold until he had recovered.

“And after that?” asked Silas, lifting his eyes. “I am unskilled and untrained. I have no money except land covered in ash. I have no friends--”

“You have friends!” exclaimed Jude, who was starting to be annoyed at being left out so completely. Had he not proven to Silas that they were friends? The Manadavvi was watching him with his dark eyes. He looked so dejected that Jude wanted to reach out and hug him again, the way he had when they first met in the Edori camp. “You have Hester. And me.”

Silas blinked and looked down, as if he was embarrassed. “So, you don’t hate me?” he asked carefully.

Jude scowled. “Seriously?! I flew around this damn province for days looking for you and you still think I hate you?” Silas looked startled that Jude had raised his voice. “Because of what-- some petty fight we had over absolutely nothing? If that’s all it takes for a friendship to break then me and Hester would have been done with ages ago.”

Silas sat in stunned silence. For once, he seemed to have nothing to say.

“It would take a lot more than that for me to hate you,” Jude said, still annoyed. “A lot more.”

And now Silas was smiling and the whole situation went from brutally honest to very uncomfortable. Jude felt the colour rising in his cheeks. “So, whatever. Come with me to Monteverde or don’t.” He stood up, suddenly wanting to escape the room.

“I’ll come if you carry me,” said Silas, with only a hint of teasing in his voice. Jude turned scarlet and made to leave. Then he remembered that Silas needed help up the stairs to his room and turned back reluctantly. Red faced and flustered, he allowed the young man to snake an arm around his neck as he came to an uneasy stand. Silas grinned all the way to his room.


	11. Silas' Love

Silas Tendler was in love. There was no other conclusion to come to as he lay awake in his bed at the tavern. It was a sensation he had never felt before, but the signs were unmistakable: his stomach was full of butterflies, his heart making strange leaps, and his face flushed with happiness. Moreover, he never wanted to be parted from Jude again.

When he finally reached this conclusion, it was something of a relief for Silas. The angel had made him confused-- he had mistaken his affection for a deep friendship, one that caused him dream about Jude, think about him during his waking hours, and bask in his presence. The confused was only deepened by the fact that the object of his affections was not a woman. But, Silas reflected, he had never felt this way about a woman either. That fact seemed telling.

He should have realized the feeling when Jude first landed in the Edori camp yesterday. Silas had been so relieved, so  _ happy _ that there was no other way to explain it. Jude was perfect-- a beautiful messenger from Jovah come to save him from his misfortunes. 

It was a wonderful feeling, to be sure. It made him want to sing songs or write poetry. He wanted to tell someone-- anyone-- about how wonderful love was. He needed to express how it made his heart swell and his mind soar.

Unfortunately, the next conclusion Silas came to was that he was never going to be able to tell anyone about his feelings-- least of all Jude. Their friendship, which had barely bounced back from the last fissure, was likely to crack again if he prodded it too much. The last time they had fought, it had almost been unbearable for Silas. He wasn’t willing to risk that again. 

So, like some silly ballad about two star crossed lovers, Silas was doomed to feel unrequited love. He came to all of these conclusions lying in bed, and went from jubilation to deep depression in only a matter of hours. He fell asleep uneasily and woke up sore and grumpy.

When he didn’t get out of bed after the sun had risen, a soft knock on the door told him Jude was getting impatient. “Silas?” he asked timidly. The sound of his voice made Silas’ stomach do somersaults.

“I’m awake,” he offered, propping himself up quickly on one arm. Jude opened the door cautiously and poked his head inside. The angel looked much more refreshed than he had yesterday. There was more colour in his face and his hair had finally dried. His buttoned white shirt was wrinkled but clean, though he managed to match up the buttons incorrectly. It was, in Silas’ biased opinion, adorable.

“I wanted to know if you’re ready to go back to Monteverde today,” Jude asked, a little less flustered and annoyed than he had been last night. He closed the door and approached the bed. Silas would have felt embarrassed, except that he had been an invalid in bed for the past week, entertaining any number of people in this state.

“Today’s as good a day as any,” Silas admitted as Jude settled cross-legged on the floor beside the bed. His leg and collarbone were sore, but that wasn’t going to go away in a few days. Besides, he was more eager than he was ever going to admit to be back in Jude’s arms, flying over the countryside. The sensation of flying was amazing, and it was astonishing how strong the angel was. It was something Silas could get used to.

Jude was frowning in the way that meant he was trying to read Silas’ mind. “You don’t want to go back to the estate?”

Now it was Silas’ turn to frown. He hadn’t even considered going back to that cursed place. He had hoped to put off that trip for a few more weeks, at least. “What’s the point?” he asked sourly. “Nothing but ruins, now.”

Jude nodded, because that was probably how the place really did look. “But at some point,” he continued. “You might want to rebuild.”

_ I want to come to Monteverde and live with you _ , Silas thought silently. “Some day,” he said out loud. “I will get everything sorted out.”

Jude shrugged and stood up. He stretched arms and his wings until they almost touched the walls on either side. “Well, breakfast then.”

While Silas was starting to become annoyed on his dependance on other people for mobility, he was glad that it was Jude he was forced to rely on. In fact, he treasured the moments of intimacy more than he would ever admit. Especially now that he knew why he felt so strongly. The other side effect was that he was having trouble meeting Jude’s gaze, keeping a straight face, or even answering questions that in a normal circumstance would have been completely ordinary.

“If they aren’t prepared to accommodate you, could you stoop to staying in my room?” asked Jude in between bites of eggs. He was talking about when they got to Monteverde, of course, and the question nearly made Silas choke on his food. 

“Yeah, sure,” he managed to answer, which made Jude give him a suspicious look. No doubt the angel was prepared for teasing, but the moment passed quickly when Silas started talking about the weather.

They left an hour later in the calm sunlight of the mid morning. The matter of being picked up in an angel’s arms was awkward at the best of times, and it was made even more strange by the issue of broken bones and injured legs. Eventually Jude had collected Silas up into his arms and launched himself into the clear blue sky.

The sensation was as thrilling as it had been yesterday. The added bonus was the brilliant sunlight that coloured the landscape below. They left the Gaza town of Cassal and headed southwest towards the city of Monteverde. Between the two habitations was a vast expanse of farmland. The tilled land made strips of rich brown earth, sectioned off by forests, lakes or streams. As they approached the Verde Divide the land gave way to rolling foothills covered in green grasses and spring wildflowers. 

Monteverde itself was not as impressive as the cities of Luminaux or Semora, but the tall hold buildings were distinguished. As the city came into view, the angel started to make his descent. Jude, who had been quiet for much of the hour, started to point things out to Silas.

“You can see the dorms from here,” he said conversationally. “And that tall point is the clock tower-- the one in the east square, remember?”

“Where is Deltiros?” asked Silas. He only just remembered that the restaurant had been the site of their last fight, but it was too late to recant his words. 

Jude didn’t seem to mind. “See that big red building. It’s near there. Want to land?” He suddenly banked, making for a little square near the building he had indicated.

“S-sure?” Silas supplied, but they were already nearly on the ground. The transition from flight to standing was a strange sensation as suddenly the world stopped pumping up and down. It took a moment for Jude to steady Silas on his feet. 

“So we’re having lunch already?” Silas said, leaning heavily on his cane. 

“Why not?” asked Jude, who seemed to be in a unreasonably good mood after a long flight. Silas was not about to argue with a happy Jude, not when seeing that smiling face made his innards react in such a way. 

“Why not?” echoed Silas, and he allowed Jude to lead him to the restaurant. 

Silas’ condition was worse than he thought. Not his injuries-- those were soon forgotten after the pair dove into a meal of shellfish and vegetables. The pain came from the heart, which somehow felt even worse in Jude’s presence than when he was away. The angel chatted amiably, unaware of Silas’ discomfort, giving him updates about the hold and the angels who lived there. 

“Hester will want to see you, of course,” said Jude, gently rolling his eyes. Silas also noted that he didn’t make eye contact. Was this Jude’s way of giving up and blessing the union between the Manadavvi and the angela? 

Silas toyed with his glass, turning it on the spot. “I don’t have to,” he said without raising his eyes. “See Hester, I mean. If you don’t want.”

Jude put down his own cup which he was halfway through drinking. “What? Why wouldn’t I?” he said, and Silas noted the colour rising in his cheeks. It seemed the angel did not want to be reminded of their last fight.

“Nevermind,” said Silas, putting on a smile that was only half genuine. “Maybe we can join her for dinner if she isn’t busy.” Jude’s gaze told him that the cheerful statement was not entirely convincing, but Jude did not challenge him. 

While Silas enjoyed the company more than he could describe, the whole encounter solidified his theory that he would never be able to confess to the angel. This was the extent of their relationship, and he was either going to have to get over it or get used to the feeling of deep disappointment. As he watched Jude flash his green emerald bracelet at the waitress-- in lieu of payment-- he felt sure that he was not about to get over it very soon.


	12. Jude's Mission

Jude rounded another corner into a vast recital chamber and found that it, like so many other rooms he had visited, was also empty. He let out a disappointed breath and continued down the hall of the angel hold, his eyes moving from doorway to doorway, just in case he spotted his prey.

Silas had not been in his guest room that morning. Nor had he been in the dining hall, the library, the marketplace, the dorms, the gardens or anywhere else Jude had searched. This game was starting to annoy him, and it wasn’t the first time. For a week now he had barely managed to see his friend once a day, and even then the moment was fleeting. Jude was sure now that the Manadavvi man was avoiding him, and just when they finally had settled into a comfortable, normal friendship.

He supposed things were never going to be normal with Silas as a friend, but this was just plain rude.

Eventually Jude found Hester in the last recital chamber: one of the large, empty rooms that hosted the ancient technologies of the original settlers of Samaria. These machines were able to reproduce music sang by the first archangel and angelica, as well as a selection of other pieces. It might as well of been a miracle sent by Jovah, though it was common knowledge that the original settlers had owned technologies that far surpassed the ones they had today.

The music rooms were perfect in terms of acoustics and sound insulation. He might not have known Hester was even in there until she answered his polite knock.

“Oh Jude!” she said happily. Her cheeks were flushed as if she had just been singing a particularly breathtaking piece. “Perfect timing! You can sing harmony for me!” She practically pulled Jude into the room before he could protest.

“I’m looking for Silas, actually,” Jude said quickly, disentangling him from the angela. “Have you seen him?”

Hester made a face that was both hesitant and guilty. She was still so easy to read. “I’m not supposed to tell you.” Jude was surprised, but not too much to cover his annoyance. 

“Why not?” he demanded, fully pulling himself from his friend. “Why could he tell you and not me?”

Hester looked a little impatient with Jude’s attitude. “Because I found him by accident and he made me promise not to say.” She did look a little sorry, under that impatience. “He doesn’t want to be disturbed. I don’t think he’s very happy.”

Jude furrowed his brows, as he did when he was thinking. “The trial was settled,” he said slowly. “He’s been compensated for his losses. His uncle has been confined. Is he still upset about all that?” Hester rolled her eyes at Jude, but he couldn’t imagine why. “What?”

“Oh, he doesn’t care about all that,” she said and her know-it-all tone was starting to get on Jude’s nerves. “That’s not his problem.”

Jude growled in a frustrated way and mussed up his hair to release his own tension. “Come  _ on _ Hester!” he said impatiently. “Just tell me!”

Hester’s face suddenly split into a wide smile. “He’s in love!” she practically squealed. “He thinks it's a doomed love, so of course he’s all mopey about it. But really, what girl wouldn’t have him in a heartbeat? He’s just being dramatic, I told him!” Hester was now in full gossip mode, but Jude just stood in stunned silence, not hearing much that she said.

“At first I thought-- Maybe it's one of the angelas-- oh, I know it isn’t me, of course. He wouldn’t have  _ told _ me. But maybe Hale or Leah. Or really any of the girls in the hold.”

Jude’s brain was starting to catch up and he put up a hand to silence Hester. She looked at him quizzically. “I thought something was wrong…” he started slowly. “Ever since he left the Edori.”

Hester let out a gasp and an ‘ooo!’. “Was there girls in the tribe? Were they pretty? That must be why he thinks it's doomed. I mean, that’s a strange match to be sure. But it’s not impossible, is it? Oh, I think you’re right, Jude!”

Jude recalled a couple of young girls who were among those who bid farewell to Silas when they left over a week ago. He could barely remember their faces and definitely couldn’t remember their names, but it was very possible that during his illness one of them had tended to him and kindled a love.

“We have to help him, Jude. He can’t go on like this! He’s holed up in that tavern--”

Jude quickly looked at Hester’s face as she let a hand fly to her mouth. “Tavern?” he asked sternly. “He’s drinking?” Hester looked extremely guilty and Jude almost felt bad for her. “How often is he there?”

Hester shrugged, but Jude was already assuming the worst. It had been a week that Silas had been hiding, and likely he had been drunk the whole time. “Where is he?” he demanded of Hester, using that angelic voice that he pulled out very infrequently.

“The… Tumbled Vine,” she admitted miserably. When she caught Jude’s smile of thanks, she mirrored it just for a second before watching him quickly leave the chamber.

The Tumbled Vine was not the finest establishment. It wasn’t even mediocre. It served as the drinking hole for the manual district, where stone masons, blacksmiths and other physical labourers toiled. The men and women who dwelled here were used to practicality and didn’t care much for esthetics. The tap room was a plain, with wooden floors and white walls. The round tables were orderly and the chairs functional. The food was filling and didn’t taste like much, and the ale did what it was meant to do if you didn’t mind the taste.

There was one type of wine, and Silas was drinking it out of a stein. 

“Not a bad hiding place,” Jude remarked when he came up behind his friend. The dark-haired man wheeled around on his bar stool to face the angel. The establishment was mostly empty, as it was still half way through the afternoon and the local patrons were still at work. The few bar flies that practically lived here gave Jude little notice.

“Jude!” Silas said with a flushed face. He was blinking like it was hard to focus on the face in front of him. “What are you-- why’d you come here?” He was slurring, too. 

Jude frowned, looking from Silas’ flushed face, to the mug of wine, to the bartender who was trying to look very busy. He sighed heavily and took the mug from Silas. “Come on, Silas,” Jude said resolutely. “You’re going home.”

Silas grunted something in dissent, but didn’t seem to have it in him to fight back. He allowed the mug to be removed from his hand and then heavily came to his feet. At the best of times, Silas managed to hide the worst of his limp and used the cane as infrequently as possible. At a time like this, it was clear that he wasn’t going to walk without a fair amount of stagger. “I’m fine,” he tried to insist when Jude offered him an arm. The angel watched him walk lopsided to the door without too much incident.

It was still sunny outside and Jude was struck by how ridiculous this situation was. He looked sideways at Silas where he stood on the threshold. He was scowling, but didn’t seem ready to say anything. 

Then, without warning, he leaned over and emptied his stomach. Jude grimaced and stepped lightly out of the way. 

“S-sorry,” Silas muttered, wiping his mouth with his good hand. The other arm, while no longer in a sling, he used very infrequently. Jude sighed again. It was going to be a long afternoon of sighs.

“Come on,” he said a little gentler this time. “Let me carry you.”

“No!” Silas snapped, putting out his hand. “I’m  _ fine _ . I don’t want…  _ you _ to carry me.” From his tone of voice, he almost sounded annoyed with Jude specifically. The angel supposed that was what he got for finding Silas in this condition. He wasn’t, however, going to back down. 

“Shut up and don’t struggle,” Jude snapped back and before Silas could react again Jude had stepped behind him and knocked him over so that he fell clumsily in his arms. The next moment they were in the sky. Jude expected Silas to struggle, or complain, or even throw up again, but the man was strangely still. It would be just Jude’s luck to have him pass out in his arms, but when they reached the angel hold he was surprised to see Silas awake and aware, though still clearly drunk.

The angel hold was busy, not too much, but just enough that no one really paid the pair much mind. Silas kept himself fairly composed by the angel’s side, though every once in awhile he would stumble or sway. They made their way to the guest quarters, where Silas had spent the last week. His room was a large one, big enough to accommodate someone of Silas’ stature. However, besides the common furniture, it was empty. The bed was unmade.

When they paused at the doorway, Silas swayed badly and Jude felt it necessary to catch his free arm. The other man leaned on him heavily, muttering something apologetic. Together they half walked, half stumbled to the bed where Silas fell heavily into a sit.

“Thanks, friend,” he said lazily, starting to undo the buttons on his shirt.

Jude watched him, something making him unwilling to leave. Was it true that Silas was so unhappy that he was drowning his sorrows in the middle of the afternoon? Jude had witnessed Hester fall in love before, but she had never been this upset. Maybe that was because everyone she loved would love her back unconditionally. Who was it that spurned Silas to this extent? How could she be so cruel? Or did she not even know of his love?

Silas was struggling with his buttons and he looked up at Jude, squinting to focus his gaze. “Help please?” he all but pleaded. His eyes might as well have been those of a lost puppy. Jude sighed yet again. 

He could smell wine when he knelt in front of his friend. Silas was looking down at Jude’s progress on the shirt, which he did as quickly as he possibly could. His chest was particularly warm and the intimacy was starting to make Jude feel nervous. As soon as the buttons were done he pulled back quickly, his face feeling warm as well.

“Ok, well, goodnight,” he said awkwardly. Silas pulled off his shirt badly, wincing as he moved his bad arm. Then he fell onto his pillow, eyes already closed. Jude turned to leave, but was stopped by a touch. 

Silas was reaching out to him, eyes half open. Instinctively, Jude took his hand as well, which made the other smile drunkenly. “Stay?” he asked.

Jude wasn’t sure why he felt so strange about the whole situation. Surely it was because he had never seen Silas in this way before. He had turned into a big baby, wanting to be cared for and coddled. For the past week, Silas had been making a concerted effort  _ not _ to let people take care of him. He refused help when he was limping, used his left hand while writing (his right hand still not recovered) and complained very little. This was apparently all a farce, however. He wouldn’t even let go of Jude’s hand.

“Please,” Silas said again. What was he asking for, anyway? Jude wasn’t about to sit beside his friend’s head, holding his hand all night. It was likely that once Silas passed out he wouldn’t notice if Jude left anyway. The angel sighed.

“OK, but you need to sleep,” he said, as if he really was talking to a child. He crossed his legs and sat beside Silas’ bed, his eyes about level with his friend’s. He untangled his fingers and let the hand fall limp. 

What happened next was the most confusing and awkward part of the whole afternoon. Silas, still not asleep, raised his hand to Jude’s face and brushed the hair away from his eyes and an oddly intimate way. The look in his eyes was suddenly lucid, and his expression gave way to a subtle sadness that touched Jude more than he could say. The moment lasted until Silas’ eyes closed and his face finally went slack. 

Jude left the room flushed, confused and moved. More than anything he finally understood how deeply Silas was feeling: there was no mistaking it. Knowing how much pain his friend was in squeezed at the angel’s heart. It made him want to fix him-- mend the hole in Silas’ heart. The Manadavvi boy had already known too much grief, and Jude wouldn’t stand by and let it continue.

It was clear what Jude would need to do: the afternoon was still young, and he could easily get to Eastern Gaza before it was dark. The Kalashii clan had told them that they were due there for the Gathering, a large Edori celebration which they heartily invited the two boys to. It was likely the clan, already in Gaza, was there, waiting for other tribes to arrive before the celebrations began. 

Jude packed an overnight bag, unsure of how long the mission would take. It was finally sunny in Gaza which meant the flight would be quick and convenient. However, he might need to do a lot of talking on the other end. It occurred to him that Hester was probably the better person for the job, but this was something he wanted to do himself.

The hardest part to departing was convincing Herod that it was necessary for him to do so. 

“Why,” the big angel asked slowly. “Do you need to find the Edori?”

Jude had gone over a number of lies in his head on the short walk up to Herod’s chamber, where the archangel was busy going over the accounts with Pel. He clearly hadn’t wanted to be interrupted and this was going to work against Jude’s favour. There wasn’t any lie that was going to convince the archangel, he knew.

“It’s Silas,” he said with a breath. Who was it that had said that ‘Honesty is the best policy’? “I just want to convince his Edori friends to visit him. After the accident…” 

“Yes, I imagine he likes them well enough,” Herod said impatiently. He wasn’t looking up from the long piece of paper Pel had handed him. “He can go see them himself. He doesn’t need you to fly all over Samaria for him.”

This was going to harder than Jude thought. “I-- I just thought. Since I was supposed to go on patrol  _ anyway _ . Maybe I could switch with someone going to Eastern Gaza.” Efficiency was something Herod prided himself in. He himself hated making a trip unless it combined with a number of other necessary errands. This proposition at least made him look up from the paper.

“Silas isn’t well enough to travel yet,” he added, which was only true because Silas was stone drunk in bed. “I-I mean, we’re taking care of him, right? Isn’t this part of it?”

Herod was frowning in the same way Jude did when he was thinking. “We do not owe Silas Tendler anything. He has been made welcome here, compensated and given justice.”

“None of those things will bring his father back,” Jude added with a certain amount of feeling. He hadn’t really meant to say it, but it seemed to actually startle Herod. The big angel was looking at Jude with wide eyes. He put down the paper and took a breath through his nose. “Alright.”

Jude’s eyebrows went up and he opened his mouth. “Really?” He was genuinely surprised. How had he convinced the unfeeling, stoic angel to listen? Something in Herod’s subtle body language told Jude that he had been moved by the statement about the father. Presently he wasn’t about to start counting the horse's teeth.

“You can switch patrols with Elon. I will tell him if you are ready to leave.” Herod had quickly regained his composure and was reading papers again. Jude exchanged a glance with Pel, who seemed to be as surprised about the whole exchange as he was.

Jude wasted no time after that. He left from the hold almost immediately, wanting to arrive at the Edori camp before dark.

Anyone who had tried to track the Edori would tell you that finding a specific tribe was about as easy as finding the end to eternity. Even other tribes would be able to give you only approximate information at best, as the travel plans of the Edori were as changeable as the wind. Luckily for Jude the one place that all Edori in Samaria were guaranteed to be two weeks before the Gloria was at the Gathering. The Edori celebration was never in the same place twice, but Jude had been told specifically where it was going to be this year.

Jude scanned the land below him as he flew. Indeed, it was a clear afternoon and he was able to see far even at a high altitude. The instructions had been written for someone arriving by foot or cart, but the gist of it was acceptable to an angel as well, who could see what was coming for miles.

Indeed, although the Gathering was not for a few more days, there was a large grouping of tents and camp fires just at the bank of the narrow Fields River. He was worried that the group was too small, but if the Kalashii were not there, he was resigned to wait for them.

Almost as soon as Jude made footfall a few yards from the nearest tent, someone was approaching him with a wide smile. 

“Hello angelo! You are early, but you are welcome!” It was an older man who was at least a head older than Jude. The angel suddenly felt awkward.

“W-were you expecting me?” he stammered, looking past the man to see who else might have seen him approach.

“We seldom  _ expect _ anyone, but we always welcome the company. I was speaking of the Gathering, which begins in two days.” His smile did not diminish, as was normal for most Edori. It made Jude feel strangely calm.

“I am seeking the Kalashii,” Jude explained as politely as he could. “Have they arrived?”

The smile on the man’s dark, weathered face grew larger. “Ah yes! My brother followed the Kalashii for a time, before he died. I know them like my own family. I am Malachi of the Hostans. My family tent is here, but I will take you through to the Kalashii if you wish.”

“Yes, the Kalashii,” Jude said, swallowing a stutter. The open friendliness of the Edori was something he was not yet used to. 

The man led Jude past cook fires and tents. There were many more people gathered here than the angel had first assumed: women stirring pots and holding babies, men saddling horses and darning socks, and childing dodging in and around the whole mess. Several people greeted them as they passed, no one the least surprised or alarmed to see and angel walking amongst them. A few children started to tail them and eventually broke into a song that Jude could not understand. 

Eventually they came upon a few large tents that were indistinguishable from the rest, until Liam’s head poked out of one of them. Jude recognized the big, older Edori man with some relief, fearing that he was going to come upon a group of strangers.

“Ho there, my friend,” Jude’s guide called and Liam rose from the tent flap to return the greeting.

“Malachi, is it?” Liam said as he strode over to offer the other man a hand. “I travelled with Bruno for a time. Yovah watch over his soul.” There was a solemn moment between to two men that was broken only when Liam looked over to Jude.

“And this is our Angelo,” he said cheerfully, his face turning quickly from grief to warmth. “A friend of Silas. How is our boy?”

Jude shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He wasn’t sure how honest an answer the man was seeking. Of course, the Edori were honest about everything. “He is mostly recovered,” he said tactfully. “He limps a little, but the healers say that will pass, too.”

Liam went on grinning. “That is good to hear. Please, won’t you both join us by the fire? Dinner is nearly ready and Bella is cooking tonight. She is our finest cook!” 

“I am wanted by my niece,” said Malachi of the Hostans. “But I will think of Bella’s food all the while. Give my best to Miranda.” He patted Jude on the shoulder as if he was an old friend and left them to find a comfortable place to sit.

A few misshapen logs had been placed around a large fire pit and suited Jude well, allowing him to settle his wings behind him. He was warm by the flames, but as the sun started to set in the west, the cool wind started to pick up. Liam sat beside him and, only a moment later, Miranda emerged with an armful of wood that looked too heavy for her.

“Jude!” she said at once. “So you are the one Malachi brought. I could not have dreamt up a finer angel to appear by our fire. Be welcome!” She put down the wood with a groan that betrayed her age and settled on a palet near the two others. 

Although, ultimately, neither these two people were the ones Jude sought, he was glad that he met them first. Their wisdom was plain in the glint of their eyes, and both seemed eager to listen. So he relaxed, and let himself enjoy their company.

“I came here with a mission,” Jude admitted at once. “But now that I am here, I think I should have come regardless.” He could smell a stew in the cooking pot and almost by magic, a younger woman appeared from behind a tent with a basket of greenery to tend it.

“A mission,” Liam said, as if tasting the word. He took from his pocket some kind of herb and popped it into his bearded mouth. “Angels are all about their missions, I suppose.”

“Go on, tell us then,” said Miranda with a little less patience than Liam. “We have been starved for adventure since settling here. Too long for any Edori to stay in one place, if you ask me.”

Jude took a breath and studied his hands in the failing light. He filled himself up with all of the peace and calm that the evening offered him. He could feel the love rolling through the camp, from the distant laughter to the warm fires. No wonder Silas had found his place here.

“I am here about Silas,” he started, because that was the crux of the matter. “He is unhappy.”

Neither Liam nor Miranda said anything in reply to this quiet admission. Though Jude did not meet their gaze, he knew they were watching him all the same. So he went on.

“At first I thought it was grief-- he had just lost his father after all. The trials passed and he was awarded compensation, which he received gracefully.” He laughed a short, breathy laugh. “He does everything gracefully, at least. But I can see under it all, and he was deeply unhappy about something. Something he had no control over, or so he thought. It was driving him to drink and preventing him from living his life.”

Miranda lifted her hand and settled it on Jude’s. When he met her eyes, he saw pity in them. “You care for him a great deal.”

Jude blinked in surprise, but did not deny it. Silas was his true, real friend. Of course he cared for him. Seeing Silas so broken and empty was enough to tear at Jude’s heart. But he wasn’t sure how to explain this feeling, so he went on.

“I-- rather, Hester. She figured it out. He’s in love. Not that fleeting sort of feeling but really, truly in love. With someone far away.” He looked deliberately around the camp, as if expecting the rest of the Kalashiis to pop up from the ground. 

Liam leaned back slightly with his hands on his knees. “Well, he’s a good sort of man. Surely any girl would follow him.” He scratched his whiskered chin. “Who do you suppose it was?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Jude admitted. He was still looking around the camp. “He met a few girls here. I can only assume he fell in love with one of them. But maybe when you were with him he said something…” He trailed off deliberately, hoping one of the elder Edori would fill in the blanks. However, Miranda didn’t look ready to say anything and Liam was still rubbing his chin.

“Katherine and Faith are about his age,” he said after a moment. “But I think it best to ask them. If you don’t think it is too blunt.”

Jude wet his lips nervously, considering the prospect. “No, I suppose the most direct way is the best.” 

Liam rose to his feet. “A solution, then! Your mission will be accomplished. The girls are collecting berries-- I can see if they are returning.” He waited for Jude to give a little nod before striding off in a seemingly random direction, but no doubt towards the berry patch that all the Edori would know about.

Miranda, however, stayed beside Jude. She had withdrawn her hand from his and was now watching the fire with a peculiar look on her face. The camp was still relatively quiet, though no doubt in moments it would be full of activity as dinner drew nearer. Jude enjoyed the silence for a moment, thinking of his solitude in the library. Unfortunately, his mind kept wandering to Silas, drunk in his bed, holding onto Jude’s hand for dear life. Jude felt his heart squeeze.

“Jude,” Miranda said slowly. Jude snapped to attention. The woman was still gazing into the fire, her sharp features aglow with the light. “I don’t think your friend Silas is in love with any Edori girl.”

Jude now was paying very close attention. He frowned in thought, now wracking his brain for any other candidate for Silas’ affection. Perhaps he was in love with Hester after all? Or perhaps he wasn’t in love with anyone at all? “You think… he is still grieving?”

Miranda turned and looked at the angel as if to a child. She smiled. “He will always be grieving. But your friend Hester was right-- he is in love. I could tell as much when he stayed here with us. When you watch so many young men and women of your clan fall in and out of love, you start to see the signs very clearly. And I remember the feeling, too.” She looked a little sad for a moment even though she still smiled.

Jude was unaware that he was holding his breath. He was desperate to interrupt, but many meetings with the Archangel had taught him to hold his tongue. After a moment Miranda reached out again to lay her hand on his. This time she closed both hands over his and leaned a little closer to his knees. She looked up to him with an strange, warm expression.

“He’s in love with you, Jude.”

The shock only lasted a moment before the angel released his breath into a forced laugh. “Oh, come on,” he said with a shaky smile. “We’re talking about Silas, here.”

“Yes, we are talking about Silas,” Miranda said, with a hint of impatience in her tone. “Silas who was alone in the world until you landed in front of him. He told me that he cares for you. He might have denied love, but I saw the way he watched you when you arrived in our camp. He is not a good liar, that one.”

Jude blinked several times and shook his head gently. “He denied it, you said,” he said in as convincing a voice as he could muster. “We’re friends. Of course he cares about me. I’m talking about  _ love _ . You know, like between a man and a woman.”

Miranda practically snorted. “Trust an angel to believe only a man and a woman can fall in love. It’s all about  _ breeding _ , I know. But at least try to consider it.” She was watching Jude with an expression that was not unkind.

But Jude was having a very hard time even considering it. She was right about angels-- some of his kind were so concerned with breeding more angels that they slept with many different lovers. Even the laws of marriage were bent differently for angels, so that they might breed. The idea of a union that would not produce offspring was unheard of. It was certainly unspoken of.

“I’m sorry, Jude,” Miranda said suddenly. “I have upset you. That was not my intent.”

Jude shook his head yet again. “I’m not… upset. I’m just confused. If you’re right… but you can’t be. We are talking about the same person, right?” He thought about Silas, reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of Jude’s eyes. He remembered the sad, sober look in his eyes. “Silas… has slept with all these women. He’s going to marry someday.”

“Marriage,” Miranda said with a sigh. “We Edori don’t believe in marriage. And why should we, when the Manadavvi show us just how much a bond such as that really means. Marriage does not equal love. It seldom ever does.” She paused, apparently in thought. “A man who sleeps with many women does not love those women, either.”

It was certainly true that Silas did not appear to have been in love with any of the girls he flirted with. The mask he put on was so obvious to Jude any time he talked to a pretty girl. Could it be possible that he was saving his love for someone of his own gender? Could it be possible he was saving it for Jude?

“You came here with a mission,” Miranda was saying. “But I hope you will stay longer. Perhaps it will give you time to think.” 

 

\------------

 

Jude agreed to stay the night. Miranda was right-- he wasn’t ready to make sense of the information she had given him and he certainly wasn’t ready to face Silas again. He was afraid that this knowledge, if it was true, was going to change their relationship forever. No wonder Silas hadn’t said anything. No wonder he was miserable.

That night the stew was delicious and the family members of the Kalashii sang in front of the fire. It was a reasonably warm night and everyone stayed up late to talk, sing and listen. No one asked Jude to sing, so he sat comfortably, enjoying the good will and entertainment. 

That night he slept on a soft pallet under the stars. He could hear the spring peepers starting to sing in the rushes and the soft wind playing with the trees. The stars overhead were impeccable, each a sparkling with a million candles. The perfection of the night lulled Jude into a calm sleep where he forgot his worries and confusion.


	13. Silas' Song

It was clear that Hester was irritable.

“Who can’t you two just talk to each other?” she said, waving her arms impatiently. Her mood was in such conflict with her usually cheerful demeanor that it was hard to ignore her. The yelling was also giving Silas a headache.

“If I could find him, I would,” he explained gently, hoping to lower her tone of voice. He was more hungover than he had been in a long time. All he wanted was to hide in bed and eat nothing but bacon and bread while reading a bad book. But he was determined to explain himself to Jude.

“He’s gone, alright? He’ll be back in a few days.” She frowned while crossing her arms over her chest. They were standing in the library where the light from the sun was coming in through a tall window.

Silas sighed. If he was feeling better, he might be able to carefully and tactfully get the information he wanted from the angela. “I’m sorry, Hester. I just don’t know that many people here.” It was an honest admission, but he knew it would have an effect on her. “I do sort of depend on you.”

Hester seemed to be softening, but she didn’t quite unravel. “Stop trying to manipulate me,” she said, but not as seriously as before. “I don’t feel bad for you. Only bad for Jude. You’ve been really mean to him, you know.”

Silas looked at her seriously. It was his behaviour that he wanted to explain to Jude. He wanted to apologize for getting drunk and depending on the angel to take care of him. He also wanted most of all to tell him why he was so depressed, but he wouldn’t go that far. 

After a moment of silence where all they could hear was a lone scholar pacing a few shelves away, Hester unlocked her arms. “He’s gone to see the Edori,” he finally admitted. “For the Gathering.”

Silas frowned in thought, trying to use his sore brain. It wasn’t working. “I can’t even imagine why,” he admitted.

Hester was chewing on her lip, like she was reluctant to say something. “Why don’t we go?” she said after a moment.

Silas tried not to look even more confused. Hester, however, was starting to light up like a lantern. “Yes, lets! You can ask him yourself! You can have a good man-to-man talk, or whatever you boys do. And you can stop using me as your messenger.” When Silas didn’t reply, she plowed on. “I hear the Gathering is lovely! They sing, though it’s probably not as nice as the Gloria. I’ve never gone to a Gathering, have you?”

Silas was rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and get rid of the worst of his headache. “OK, sure,” he said finally. “How do we get there?”

Hester rolled her eyes. Her mood had already managed to do a complete turn-around and she was practically bouncing with newfound cheerfulness. “We’ll  _ fly _ of course. I have no patrols for a few days-- I am supposed to see my mother but she can wait. Let’s go right now!”

Of course, they didn’t go  _ right now _ and took the appropriate time to pack and prepare for a potential over night. Silas also managed to sneak in a nap which seemed to relieve him of the worst of his suffering. So now, instead of feeling tired and a little nauseous, the feeling was replaced with anxiety. After all, the last time he had gotten drunk, he had offended Jude badly. What would the angel’s reaction be this time? 

By the time they were ready to leave it was late afternoon. Hester’s face was shining as brightly as the low spring sun and the weather didn’t look like it was going to turn any time soon. Silas had a bag strapped over one shoulder and wore the simple clothing of a traveller. Hester, in her flying leathers, looked as practical as they came.

The matter of carrying a man who was bigger than the angel was an awkward affair. When the mortal was smaller than the angel, they would be cradled with an arm under the legs and another under the torso. When the mortal was bigger than the angel, however, it meant that the angel would rely on the mortal’s upper body strength and simple wrap her hands around his chest. Silas never questioned when Jude carried him this way, but Hester was so petite that he wondered for a moment if she had the strength. She scoffed at his hesitation and proved, once again, that angels were surprising beings.

Silas didn’t think he would ever get used to flying in an angel’s arms. Flying with Hester was no exception. The only difference was the lack of awkwardness that came from the close contact. This allowed him to focus on the sights-- the stretches of land, the rolling hills and the distant glimmer of rivers. Truly, Gaza was a beautiful country.

The Edori tents, sprawling along the Field's River, came swifter than Silas was ready for. He felt a squirm of panic in his stomach as he searched for the right words to saw to the angel Jude when he found him. His usual confidence and grace was being replaced by shyness that made him feel like a farm girl.

They had landed before Silas had put together a half-decent greeting.

Several people had seen their arrival and were already leaving their fires, tents and groupings to investigate the newcomers. Several voices welcomed them and at least two people invited Hester and Silas to join them for dinner. 

“We’re looking for the Kalashii,” said Silas with more grace than he was saving for Jude. Several young people sighed, one of them complaining that the Kalashii got  _ all  _ of the interesting guests. An older woman grinned, however, and offered to take them to the Kalashii.

It was clear Jude was not expecting them, because he was sitting and laughing with Faith, one of the young girls of the Kalashii tribe, when they arrived. Like most of the people they had passed to arrive here, they looked over to the pair amiably, ready to welcome any newcomer.

However, when Jude recognized his friends, his face fell. Silas stopped on the edge of the Kalashii camp, not ready to barge in and reconcile with his friend. Hester filled that role instead.

“Oh Jude, aren’t we clever!” she said, and it wasn’t really a question. “We have come to be with you. With all of you!” Several other clan members were standing to make welcome to visitors. Hester beamed happiless at all of the faces, each lighting up at her sunshine. 

Jude stood a little more warily, looking from Hester to Silas. “You’ve both come?” he asked carefully. 

Impatient with such a greeting, Silas walked forward and patting his angel friend on the shoulder. “And why not?” he said as heartily as he could muster. “These are my friends more than yours. You think we were going to let you have a good time without us?”

Liam, Katherine and others were emerging from tents and coming to greet Silas now. They exclaimed “How are you!” and “How is your leg?” too often for him to be able to answer correctly. He only returned hugs, handshakes and kisses on the cheeks, as if he had been family with these people his whole life. It was like a big, warm circle was closing on Silas all of a sudden. The love was almost suffocating, but he could not ignore that Jude was watching him strangely through it all.

Dinner was served almost immediately after they arrived and they sat around the fire eating spicy fish soup and fresh bread. Hester was absorbed into the Kalashii family almost immediately, becoming instant friends with Faith and Katherine and accepting a baby in her lap as soon as her dinner was done.

Silas sat beside Jude almost carefully, as if he was a sleeping dog. The angel flinched a little, but made room for his friend on the log. It was dark now, but the fire was large enough to illuminate the friendly faces. Silas tried to inspect Jude while he ate, but did not try to talk to him until it was clear everyone else was occupied.

“Jude, I’m sorry about yesterday,” he started at once. It was almost as if this sentence had been backing up the flow of a river, and it had to be said before any other words could flow. He stopped himself from going on, for her was desperate to see the response.

Jude frowned and put his empty plate aside. “For what?”

“You know,” Silas said, only slightly annoyed that he had to spell it all out. “Being drunk. Making you take care of me. Sort of embarrassing, you know?” 

Jude raised an eyebrow at this, as if he could see through Silas’ carefree remarks. “It’s fine. You owe me one, though.”

He couldn’t help it. Silas let a grin spread over his face. There was no denying that Jude was reluctant about something, but it didn’t seem like he was angry. “That’s two freebies, now,” Silas said jovially. “Two drunken nights where I will tuck you into bed.”

Jude blinked in surprise and then looked away quickly in a way that made Silas think he had said something rude. “I’m joking, dear,” he added and a nudge with his elbow.

At that moment Faith and Katherine had lept to their feet and everyone else responded by falling silent. At first Silas was confused at what was happening, but then the two girls began to sing and it was clear what time of night it was. A few times when Silas lay injured in his tent his ears were greeted by the sounds of the Edori songs. They sang as openly as any angel, though with some less skill. Somehow, it was all the more lovely to behold. 

After the girls had sang a little Lumaneux love song, another young man took his turn to sing something in the Edori language. After that an older woman sang a sad, simple song that made everyone very quiet. Each singer was not very skilled, but sang with such sincerity and confidence that it didn’t matter how strong their voices were. Each song was met with cheers and clapping that made it clear everyone was welcome.

“May I?” asked Silas when the last singer had sat down. Though he had not drank anything, the night air and the high spirits made him feel confident. “It’s not much.” He felt Jude’s eyes on him as he stood to the encouragement of others. 

It was a children’s song, but not one sang by the Manadavvi children. It was about a child that is nearly eaten by a bear when he tries to prove himself to his father. The last verse was when the father saved his son and told him that he was proud of him, no matter what he did. Despite the serious message, it was a light song with an upbeat chorus. It was sang by farming parents to their children, but Moses had sang it to his son when he was small.

All of a sudden Silas felt the pain of grief that he had managed to ignore these past weeks. But, like a well-trained Manadavvi boy, he convinced his face and voice to remain even and unaffected. The applauds when he finished the song were genuine and no one had noticed the change in Silas’ behaviour. He sat down with a smile and allowed himself to relax.

Jude’s hand touched Silas’ very gently, and the latter looked up suddenly to the angel’s face. As ever, Jude had seen through the charade and he wore a look of pity. Silas tried to smile but the gesture wouldn’t stick, so instead he just held the gaze.

The rest of the night passed amiably and ended with a stirring performance from Hester, who was never one to pass a chance to sing as joyfully as she could. It was late by the time the children were taken sleepily to their tent, and the adults followed not long after. After much debate, Hester, Jude and Silas agreed to share a spare tent, since there was not enough room by the fire. 

With Silas in the middle, and an angel on their side, there was no lack of warmth.

“This is wonderful!” Hester said euphorically when they had all lain down. “What lovely people. I can’t imagine what tomorrow will bring. Jude, you should have taken me with you!”

“I had no idea,” Jude said with a yawn. He shifted and Silas felt him brush against his arm.

“Silas, I can’t imagine why you left here. Everyone is perfect. Wouldn’t you like to stay?” 

Silas turned in the dark to face Hester. It was a strange thing for the angela to say, as if she was trying to convince him to admit something. Otherwise she had no reason to think he would suddenly take to the Edori way of life. “Would  _ you _ like to stay?” he questioned.

“Well  _ I _ can’t,” she insisted. “I am an angel. But you could. It’s like family here. You could marry, and have children....”

“I don’t want to,” Silas said at once. He yawned and reached up to rub his eyes with his good hand. “I like them well enough. But not as well as I like you two.”

It was not clear in the darkness if Jude was still awake. Silas could hear him breathing soft, deep breaths, but his eyes might have been open. 

“Flatterer,” Hester accused. It sounded like she was smiling.

“Go to sleep,” Silas said, also with a smile. He rolled over, and realized he was facing Jude. He rolled back onto his back and realized he wasn’t going to sleep much tonight.


	14. Jude's Father

Despite Jude’s initial uneasiness, he had to admit that he had a wonderful time at the Gathering with his two friends. The festivities reminded him so much of those that were found at the Gloria, which was only two weeks away. There was food, games, singing and lots of new friends to be made. For the Edori, the Gathering was a time for old friends and family members who hadn’t seen each other for a year to get back together. It was a time of reunions and love, and the three witnessed so many tearful and happy moments in the short time they were there.

They spent the morning working-- something Jude was not unfamiliar with, but he kept glancing at Silas to see how the pampered Manadavvi was making out. However, if Silas was struggling, he hid it well, because he was all smiles to everyone.

After helping gather firewood, cut vegetables, and wash clothing, it was time for lunch. They were joined by another clan which seemed to have many familial ties with the Kalashii. Afterwards, Katherine and Faith led the two angels and Silas around the ever expanding camp to meet too many people to keep track.

Jude had gone back to being rather quiet. Not because he was upset in anyway, but because he was thinking. He could not take his eyes off of Silas, who seemed to be completely over his bout of melancholy. As he laughed with Faith, he could not help but wonder if Miranda was wrong after all-- maybe Silas was happiest with an Edori girl.

But then, every once in awhile, Silas would look at Jude and his smile would change. They would lock eyes until Jude felt uncomfortable and had to look away. He wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that those dark eyes were filled with a hopeless affection.

Jude’s attention was captured in the afternoon by something that distracted him completely. A sweet song was issuing from a campsite near the centre of the Gathering, and when they went to investigate they discovered an old man with a lovebird on his shoulder. 

“Oh how lovely!” Hester exclaimed. Jude had to agree: the bird was singing so sweetly, and not unlike a bird his mother had once owned. 

“He is called Jordan,” the old man said as the group approached. “Go on, Jordan.” He urged the bird with a bit of bread, which the bird took happily. “ _ Hello _ ,” the bird croaked, making everyone exclaim in delight.

“His song is wonderful,” Jude said with real feeling when the bird continued to sing. 

“He sings of freedom and sunshine,” the old man said, as if he could understand the language of birds. “Wouldn’t you?” Jude had to return the man’s smile and accepted his offer to feed the little bird some bread.

As they were walking away, Silas fell into step with Jude. He did not speak, but Jude felt compelled to fill the silence that followed. “My mother loved songbirds,” he said quietly, because he didn’t want Hester to make a fuss about his dead mother. “Someone opened the cage and let hers free, though.”

“Are they your favourite, too?” Silas asked conversationally.

Jude shook his head. “I like mourning doves. They seem sad, but I always thought they sounded beautiful.” He caught Silas watching him and added, “or… or whatever.” He fell into embarrassed silence and watched his boots for some time after that.

That evening everyone lugged their cooking pots, baskets and seats to the centre of the camp where an enormous fire pit had been dug and filled with wood. As the night fell, the feasting began and everyone became one big family. Anyone could sit with any clan, anyone could eat from any cooking pot. It was an opportunity to meet new people and socialize, and Jude and Silas lost Hester in the crowd. They were not worried-- Hester had followed Faith and Katherine and was no doubt charming every since young Edori in the whole camp.

When the feasting was done, it was a time for the different tribes to recount their year, telling the rest about the important news since the last Gathering. An elder from each group would rise and tell of the births, deaths, and adventures that their clan had encountered. Many of the names were meaningless to Silas and Jude, but they found a place to sit comfortably on adjacent stools and chew on cocoa bread. 

It was then that the singing began. It was not so solemn or organized as the Gloria, but it was no less heartfelt. Hundreds of Edori voices were raised together at once, or silent as the listened to ballads from individuals or duos. It went on for some time before Hester not to subtly crept over to where Silas and Jude were sitting.

“I’m next, Jude,” she whispered happily. “You’ll sing harmony for me, won’t you?”

Jude exchanged a surprised look with Silas, but then realized that Silas was the last person he wanted to be exchanging a glance with. Especially when Silas said “You should sing, Jude. Please, do.”

Jude felt himself colour and rose to stand beside Hester, especially as the last group had sat down. The crowd cheered loudly for the trio of girls who had finished-- no doubt they were favourites that everyone knew. When the clamour had died down, Hester tested a note that told Jude right away what she was going to sing.

It was a song from the Libira. It was not meant for one singer, as Jude had assumed, but a duo. There would be several spots where Jude would need to sing on his own. It was too late to back down, however, and Jude resigned himself to singing in front of a crowd larger than any he had faced before. Iit was not a terribly long piece, but it would still dwarf any of the songs that had come before it.

So, red faced and weak-kneed, Jude began to sing along with Hester. They had sang together like this more times than he could count: at Glorias, during celebrations or alone in the music rooms. He knew Hester’s pacing and style so well that he could match her in any song, even if it was one they had never practised before.

The crowd was silent, but Jude could not tell if it was out of awe or politeness. The two angels had perfect harmony, but it was so unlike other songs from the night. Jude closed his eyes so that he couldn’t see all the fire-lit faces watching him, and pictured his mother’s face smiling as he practised in Monteverde. 

When his solo approached he opened his eyes to get his cue from Hester. But behind her was sitting Silas, and the sight of his rapt face made Jude stumble on his note, missing the intro and messing up the timing. He could feel the colour flooding his cheeks as he grasped at the notes, trying to put the song back together. Finally he closed his eyes and pictured his mother again, and he found his calm.

Jude assumed the cheering that followed the finale were only to be kind. Anyone who knew anything about music would have heard his mistakes. Hester was beaming at him, however, so apparently she was unperturbed by it as well.

Suddenly Silas came to his feet beside the angels, so quickly that Jude nearly backed away in alarm. The Manadavvi’s face was so serious that Jude wondered for a second if he was angry. Silas opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Jude looked from him to Hester.

“Jude, I…” Silas started, uncharastically hesitant. He closed his mouth just as quickly and looked torn, like he was struggling with the wording. 

At once Jude realized what Silas was trying to say. He felt a rush of embarrassment and panic, but he could only look to Hester for help. She looked nothing but pleasantly confused, still on a high from singing in front of the crowd. “We can probably sit now,” she said after an awkward silence.

They all made to sit on the bench, but Silas caught Jude’s elbow. It was not a hard grip, but it made him hesitate long enough to meet Silas’ eyes. Still the Manadavvi didn’t say anything, and from close up it was hard to ignore the sad, serious expression on his face.

After a heartbeat, Silas released him and turned away. He left the circle of light with a slight stumble, as if he had been drinking wine. Jude stood stock still, watching him until he was lost to darkness.

 

They left early the next morning, knowing already that they had stayed longer than the Archangel would have allowed. Hester was due at her mother’s mansion on the coast and Jude had only meant to stay one day away before getting back to his own duties.

Silas had slept early and woken late, which left little to no time for Jude to make any kind of small talk with him. It might have been for the best: the moment they shared around the Edori bonfire oozed with awkwardness that Jude wasn’t yet ready to face.

And yet, as Jude watched Silas silently pack his bag and clean up to leave, he wished that they could make eye contact, even just once. Jude, who hated being the centre of attention, didn’t like the idea of being ignored. Least of all by Silas.

There was no helping the fact that Jude was going to fly Silas back to Monteverde, though. When they had made their farewells to the Kalashii once more and were then prepared to leave, Silas was forced to look at Jude’s face. 

“Ready?” Jude said in the lightest tone he could muster. “The weather looks alright.”

Silas nodded quietly and turned away from Jude so that he could be carried. Feeling no less awkward, Jude slid his hands carefully around Silas’ torso. He held tight, hugging the taller man to his chest and when everyone else had backed away he beat his wings hard into the ground, launching them both into the sky. 

Jude had never had a quieter journey, besides the ones he had taken alone. Silas was awake, for be held himself upright and turned his head from time to time to see the scenery, but he never spoke. Jude did not try to fill the silence.

The quiet made the sound that greeted them on the platform near the angel hold all the more clamorous. There seemed to be twice as many people in Monteverde compared to when they left, and right away someone was racing towards them, talking even before they were in earshot. It was one of the handmaids, Kelly.

“Angelo!” she was crying. “Angelo, Jude, you are needed!” She was red in the cheeks and her hair was escaping a tight handkerchief.

Jude had barely let Silas go before he was allowed to say: “Huh?”

The handmaiden came right up to Jude and Silas, not giving so much as a glance to the former. “The baby is born. The angelica has bore a mortal.” It was just like a handmaiden to put the fact that the baby was a mortal before the name, health or even gender of the child. Jude wasn’t surprised-- angel babies were celebrated far more than the birth of anyone else.

“That’s-- wonderful,” Jude said, trying not to sound surprised. It was wonderful, but he wasn’t sure why anyone was running to tell him the news. Why would anyone need him?

“The Archangel has been looking for you. And he’s got one of those looks. You might go see him right away, if you can.” She now spared a look to Silas, perhaps trying to communicate that he was not invited to the meeting.

Jude turned to Silas as well, not sure what he wanted to say. “I’ll see you later then?” he asked lamely. Silas smiled in a small way. Assuming he wasn’t going to get anything else out of his friend, Jude turned to follow the girl back to the Archangel’s receiving room.

The halls of the angel hold were full of activity and noise. Most of it was given to clusters of people talking in low voices, though several servants and healers passed them hurriedly as they went. “Is the angelica OK?” Jude asked suddenly. 

The handmaiden did not stop to answer him, but flapped a hand over her shoulder dismissively. “She’ll be alright. Just bleeding a lot. The baby is fine as well, if you’re wondering.”

Thank Jovah for that, at least. 

When Jude entered the Archangel’s room he was resigned to the fact that this meeting would be no more pleasant than any others they had shared before. As with last time, Pel was there, sitting at the Archangel’s desk and writing speedily. Herod himself was pacing the room when he was held up by the handmaiden who announced Jude’s arrival.

“Ah, Jude, finally,” Herod said with an unusual amount of feeling, which is to say: any at all. “Sit down. There is something important for you to know.”

Immediately Jude’s heart sped up. The last time there was something important to know from the Archangel, Silas had been in grave danger. What could it be this time? It was hard not to imagine a multitude of possibilities. He sat down warily.

“Pel, please take notes. This needs to be official.” Herod sat opposite of Jude, looking severe and imposing, and not at all like a man who had just become a father. There was a scratching of paper and pen as Pel pulled out a new parchment and dipped his quill in ink.

Herod paused for a moment, as if considering his words carefully, or perhaps surveying the angel in front of him.

“As you may know my wife has bore her child,” he began, and Jude couldn’t help but notice that herod hadn’t called the baby  _ his _ child. “It is a girl, and a mortal. She will live in the hold and be treated with respect, but there is one thing she lacks to become my heir.”

“She isn’t an angel,” Jude supplied. While it was not usual for angelic titles to pass through bloodlines, most fathers and mothers trained their angelic children to be prepared for ruling anyway, in case it did fall to them. No doubt Herod, whose father had ruled Monteverde before him, was hoping for an angel child to be his heir. 

“She is not. While it is not impossible that we will bear more children and that one of them might be an angel, it has forced me to look in other directions.” It was notoriously difficult for angels to become pregnant, let alone have the luck of that pregnancy producing an angel. Jude was not thinking about this, however. He was trying, and failing, to figure out how he fit into this whole scheme.

“I have other children, all of them mortal. I have only one child who is an angel, and that is you.” The way Herod stated this fact made it seem no more important than the weather. Perhaps Jude looked like he hadn’t heard it, because Herod leaned forward and said clearly. “You are my son, Jude. And I will be treating you thusly. Starting with your training, which has been neglected these past years. You need to learn how to rule.”

Jude was blinking back tears, but he wasn’t sure he could explain why. Most would put it down to shock. He was having trouble swallowing, which was tricky because he also felt like throwing up. He tried to focus on Herod’s face: on his green eyes which were the only feature that he shared with his angelic son. 

“My mother…” 

“She bore many angel’s children, but you were the only one who was mine.” Herod seemed to be losing patience with how long the fact was taking to sink in. “There is no time for comparing the facts. It is the truth, and I intend to make it known to all this afternoon. Meanwhile, you begin your lessons and take up the role that I have given you.”

“My role?” Jude said angrily. He should have been terrified at this moment. He should have been docile and meek the way he usually was in front of the Archangel. Something had snapped in him that made all the confusion and shock boil down to bitterness and frustration. “You haven’t given me anything! You’ve given me grief! I was happy not knowing who my father was, but I hoped if I ever did it would be…” He hesitated and this was a mistake: tears suddenly poured down his face. He stood up abruptly.

“Calm down,” Herod boomed, which made Pel look up from his writing. Strangely, this did not have the effect it once might have had on Jude.

“How can I be calm?” Jude all but yelled through a veil of tears. “You suddenly drop this on me and… and expect me to be calm?!” He swallowed a sob and kept going. “You’re not even giving me half a moment to consider before we have to… to train?! I don’t want to be a leader! I don’t want to be your son!”

Herod stood up now and finally made Jude wince in intimidation. When at his full height, with his wings spread slightly he was huge. “You have no choice,” Herod said with some fierceness in his tone. “I am the Archangel and your father besides, whether or not you knew until now. You will do as I say, and you don’t have to like it. But you WILL learn to lead. And not from me.”

Jude’s chest was heaving, trying to hold in sobs and anger at the same time. He refused to sit down, as frightened as he was of Herod’s wrath. “You won’t even train me yourself?” he asked a little more quietly. He glanced over to Pel, who seemed to be looking just as unsure of the situation.

“My brother is the leader of the host at the Eyrie. He has a daughter who will come and learn from me. It is a fair exchange.” The emotionlessness had settled back into Herod’s tone as he turned to his desk where he was preparing to address Pel. “We can send the letter with the boy,” he told the other angel.

Jude could not find the words. He stared at this man who before now was only his leader. Herod met his gaze and narrowed his eyes.

“I am not expecting this to change our relationship. I am still your Archangel and you are still a part of my hold. All this information should do for you is introduce you to your responsibilities.” He turned away again, as if this explanation should have been enough.

The day could not get any worse for Jude. The shocks were coming too quickly for him to grasp with his over-emotional brain. He wanted to lie down under a pile of blankets for a while. Alone.

“You are leaving today.”

“No!” Jude said at once. Herod looked up in surprise, not used to having anyone contradict him. “This… this is my home.” Jude was crying again: real, sorrowful tears. He had never been good at hiding his emotions. 

Herod made an impatient noise and took the letter away from Pel. He quickly signed it and folded it three times before sealing it with wax. He thrust the letter at Jude in a way that made him forced to take it. Jude hesitated with the letter in his hands.

“You can’t stand to have me around,” Jude said in a soft tone. He finally reached up to wipe as much of the wetness from his cheeks. “Even less now that you have admitted we’re related.”

Herod stared hard at Jude, his jaw clenching and unclenching. The silence stretched and stretched until Pel made a nervous little gesture. After a final, hateful look at the man who was his father, Jude turned to the door and left with as much dignity as he could muster.


	15. Silas' Comfort

Silas was finally resolved to leave Monteverde. He had lingered for too long, physically and mentally, and it was time to move on. The angel hold represented desperation and hopelessness to him now. His home in Manadavvi, or what home he would rebuild, would represent a fresh start. 

He always knew it was going to rebuild. Even if he denied and claimed to hate the place, he knew deep in his heart that Manadavvi was the place he belonged. But, just like Silas was no longer the man he was when he lived on the estate, the estate would not be the same either. He would make it in a way his uncle never would have recommended. The orchards, too, would be replanted and workers hired. He would continue his father’s work-- the work of an honest farmer who had risen too high in society. 

It was a bleak outlook from here: it would take time and a lot of new contacts to realize Silas’ plans. Likely the house would need to be built first, then the business afterwards. Silas didn’t know a thing about architecture, or even who to contact about such a thing. He supposed money was the most necessary factor. Money and determination.

His mind had been made up by the time he had left the Edori camp with Jude. The Gathering had been a wonderful time, and a memory of it would stay with him forever. But it was watching Jude sing that made Silas realize that he was never going to be able to ignore his feelings. The only thing he could do is go far away and hope that Jude wouldn’t want to visit.

Silas was already starting to pack the moment they had arrived back in Monteverde. Jude was conveniently called away be the Archangel, allowing Silas time to slip away. If he packed quickly enough, he could be away from the hold before anyone knew he was missing. He would leave a note, of course, but nothing more.

Writing the note almost harder than finding the words in real life. It should have been easy to lie on paper:  _ I have gone to rebuild the estate! I will be away for several weeks but I will be back to visit. Don’t worry about me, I am optimistic about the future. Give my love to Hester and see you in a few weeks! _ The gist of such a letter was true, but the tone was forged and Silas stared down at it for a long time, hating every word of it.

The truth was, he really did want to say goodbye to Jude in person. He wanted to see his face and burn a picture into his brain so that he wouldn’t be so miserable on his trips to come. He wanted to make a joke and see Jude scowl one more time. He wanted to watch him blush, laugh, chide and exclaim. He wanted to grab him and hold on so that they never had to part.

In the end Silas growled at himself in frustration, called himself weak-willed and forced himself to sign the damn letter. He left it on the bed, neatly made and asked a chamber maid to fetch someone to carry his things. Then he shouldered one of his bags and made to leave.

Jude caught him halfway down the hallway outside the guest chambers.

It was clear right away that Jude was upset. His face was pink as if he had been scrubbing it and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy. His left hand was clenching a letter and his right hand was balled into a tight fist.

“Jude?” asked Silas at once, his plans to leave quickly completely forgotten. “What’s wrong?”

Jude drew a breath that caught several times, as if he had recently been sobbing. He screwed up his face, no doubt trying to hold back the tears. Silas felt his heart break just watching the struggle. The angel really couldn’t hide his emotions.

“You needed a carriage?” came a voice down the hall. A man with muddy pants stood with his hat in his hands. Silas blinked in surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Not yet. Where can I find you when I’m ready?”

The man frowned, annoyed that he had been called on for nothing. “We’ll be at the Ivy’s Light,” he said gruffly, putting his hat roughly on his head and leaving out the way he came.

Jude, who had been looking over his shoulder, turned back to Silas with a look that was so put-out that Silas wanted to gather him into his arms. “Are you leaving?” he asked in a small way.

“No! Well, yes. Eventually.” Silas mentally scolded himself for stuttering. He was supposed to be the suave one. “Tell me what’s wrong first. Come sit down.”

They went back to the room, where Silas swiftly scooped up his letter and stuffed it into his bag. Jude did not notice, and fell heavily onto the bed. He leaned forward on his knees and held his face in his hands. His wings were drawn tight to his body, as if he wanted to wrap them around himself. Silas sat carefully beside him.

It took a little while to get the story out of the angel. Not two words into the account and he began to cry again, which made the words harder to understand. There wasn’t much to the story: The Archangel, Herod, had declared Jude to be his son. Jude was understandably shocked.

“And he wants me to  _ leave _ ,” he said desperately. “To the Eyrie. By myself.”

Silas thought of his own, lonely journey and bit his tongue. He was used to solitude, even when he was in a room filled with people. Jude was so open and honest that he was never really alone, so long as Hester or one of his other friends were near. But Hester wasn’t here, and it was Silas that Jude had come to for comfort.

Silas reached out and pulled both angel and wings into a sideways embrace. He felt the soft feathers on his face and felt Jude drop his head onto his chest. When the angel did not pull away, Silas closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the moment. It was the first time someone had needed him for comfort and it was perfect. He wanted to be this person for Jude. But already Jude was disentangling himself from the embrace and was wiping away tears.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying, predictably. “I’m too damn emotional.” He paused suddenly and looked up into Silas’ face, as if he had just realized where he was. But far from surprised, Jude seemed determined in the way he pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow. Even more strangely, he seemed to be turning red.

The situation was made no more clear when Jude raised his head to kiss Silas on the lips. The world stopped for a moment, and all Silas could comprehend was the faint taste of salt on Jude’s warm lips. When they were slowly pulled away, Silas tried to breathe and discovered he hadn’t passed out at all. He stared down at Jude, who seemed to be a little alarmed by what he had done.

“Jude…” was all Silas could manage to say before the angel was on his feet. 

“I have to leave right away,” Jude said saying very quickly. “I have to train to be a leader at the Eyrie. I won’t see anyone until the Gloria.”

Silas stood quickly as well, realizing he was about to lose this perfect moment. “Jude.”

But the angel went on. “I can’t say goodbye to Hester, so you have to do it for me. And the others. I don’t think I could face them right now.” He turned to leave, still clutching that letter in his hand. 

Silas caught him by the arm, but as with before, he wasn’t sure what to say.

“At the Gloria. You’ll be there, right?” Jude asked. He was looking at Silas with bright green eyes that stood out against a warm red face.  “Promise me.”

“Of course,” Silas breathed. To this Jude smiled, and left Monteverde.


	16. Jude's Home

Jude stood in the top most tower of the Eyrie, shoulder to shoulder with two other young angels, and sang a long, solemn song from a classic mass. It was evening and the other two singers, both in their teens, fidgeted and rushed parts of the songs, eager to be away. It was dinner time, and everyone else would be gathered in the great hall for feasting and games. The three angels were only here because someone had to be: there was never a moment at the Eyrie that songs were not being sung from this particular tower. It was a tradition that had started when the first settlers have built the Eyrie hundreds of years ago. 

Why the two teens had signed up for this particular time slot, Jude was not sure. It was more likely that their elders had forced them to, but no one could force them to take the time seriously and sing properly. 

Jude had signed up for this time on purpose. Dinner was one of his least favourite times of day and he was eager to be away from the social expectations that had been thrust upon him this last week.

Jude chose this particular song from this particular mass on purpose-- it was long, solemn and made no mention of passion, or love, or anything else that wasn’t holy. It was supposed to keep his mind on his god and his duty. Not that Jude had ever been any more devout than anyone in Samaria. In fact, the solemnness of the mass would have otherwise bored him. He used it to concentrate, because anytime he wasn’t concentrating, he started to think about Silas again.

His life had become a damned love song.

How appropriate that one of the songs he had sung long ago at the Tendler estate had been one such song. In particular, it was about the pain of separation from one’s lover. The man lived in Gaza while the woman was in Jordana. It was melodramatic and sappy, full of declarations and ultimatums, and Jude loved it.

Jude was not unaware of his condition, else he would not be seeking the solemn solitude of holy music. If he dwelled on Silas, he would catch himself sighing and staring out of the window at passing birds. He was being silly, but he couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t quite sure it was love-- but it was some kind of longing. Months ago he would have just called it affection: deep, familial affection. It was only now that he was aware of what it really was.

The Gloria was less than a week away, and everyone was in full preparation mode. Jude was as busy as the rest of them. Since arriving at the great, tall angel hold called the Eyrie he had been booked with lessons, dinners, introductions and more lessons. Herod’s brother Aaron, who was also Jude’s uncle, was almost as serious as the Archangel. He did not question the letter Jude delivered and immediately made the young angel a schedule.

He had music lessons, history and geography lessons, time spent with Aaron learning to answer petitions, trips to all corners of Bethel, meetings with every important person available and just enough time to sleep and eat. It was a wonder he had anytime to day dream at all.

He found time, however. Before he fell asleep in his new room he replayed the last time he had spoke with Silas. He wasn’t sure at the time why he had kissed him, and eventually he put it down to instincts. After that, it was all down hill: like a tiny rock being removed from a mountain stream and causing a waterfall to form miles downriver. As soon as Jude gave in and accepted that he had feelings for Silas, he was suddenly bursting with emotions. 

One thing was clear-- he  _ had  _ to see Silas again. They had no time to talk before Jude practically ran away. He hadn’t even been able to ask what Silas felt: Did he really love the angel? Did he want to see him again? Was he leaving Monteverde so that he wouldn’t have to be around Jude any more?

Hester, who arrived not two days after Jude had settled into the Eyrie, filled Jude in on where Silas was going. He had gone home apparently to rebuild, but this didn’t answer many questions for Jude. Hester wasn’t feeling generous: she was furious that her best friend hadn’t said goodbye. In the end they were crying and hugging, torn between happiness in seeing one another and sorrow for now living so far apart.

Hester had left the same day, and since then Jude had been left to the mercy of Eyrie politics. He had no friends here, and his sudden appearance as the unknown son of the Archangel wasn’t about to make him any. The other denizens of the Eyrie treated him with respect, but kept their distance. When he wasn’t around, he imagined people gossiped about him.

The only person who treated him with real civility was Aaron. Jude had the impression that the older angel had known about his brother’s son for quite some time. At least, he was nonplussed about Jude’s appearance and did not try to treat him like royalty. For that, Jude was grateful. 

But the lack of friends and allies was just another reason that he wished Silas was here. The Manadavvi would be able to charm his way through a whole dinner without feeling awkward even once. He would have been everyone’s favourite person before the week was out. He would have made a much better son to an Archangel than Jude did, but having him there would have at least inspired Jude to smile.

The solemn song at the topmost tower of the Eyrie was coming to a close, and the next shift, two older women, had been waiting patiently for some time. The transition between singers was messy, but the experienced singers were able to take over from the inexperienced and the harmony went on. Jude was tempted to stay, but he could sense that the two women were used to singing together without anyone else, so he reluctantly left with the other angels. 

Jude made his way towards his room as quickly as he could, hoping that it was not too early in the night. No one else was around the sleeping quarters, which told him that dinner was still in progress. Perhaps he could pretend to still be singing.

Unfortunately, he was caught before he reached his bedroom. Regina, an older, wild-haired woman, somehow blocked the hallway with her tiny stature. She was crossing her arms in the way she often did when you were in trouble. It made Jude wince.

“You are expected at dinner,” she said crisply. Jude thought she looked like a crazy mountain lady, with her mass of greying hair and her lazy eye. Despite this she was the second most responsible person in the Eyrie, acting as housekeeper, healer, scribe, matron and any other important role that wasn’t expected of Aaron, leader of the host. She was likely the daughter of an angel, but no one knew the full story.

“I was singing,” Jude said sulkily, knowing full well he was acting like a child. “I’m tired now.”

Regina made a clicking noise and crossed the small space between herself and the angel. “You will sleep when Aaron lets you sleep. Like it or not, your life is no longer your own.”

Jude scowled at this lecture, having heard it several times before. Regina was far more cynical than anyone else at the Eyrie, taking a much more realistic view of any situation. She liked to remind Jude that his position was not blessed or fortunate. As if he needed anyone to tell him so.

Jude let out a resigned breath. He didn’t have much fight in him anymore, and what he did have he was saving for the Archangel. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll play along.”

Regina seemed to be watching the back of Jude’s head as he turned and walked back the way he had came. As he rounded the few corners that would take him towards the great hall, he could hear the sounds of laughter, conversation and clinking china, which told him food was still being served.

He hesitated before entering through the large doors, looking down at his appearance. His clothing were clean, but hardly appropriate for a formal dinner. A familiar feeling of anxiety rose in his stomach. Consciously, he tried to replace the feeling with rebelliousness. Who cared what they said about his appearance? He didn’t need to look good for anyone. He raised his chin and marched as evenly as he could through the doors.

Very few people seemed to note his arrival, however. Most were sitting at the many tables, locked in conversation and good food. Aaron did, of course, but he noticed most things, having a better grasp for social settings than his brother. He beckoned to Jude, indicating a conspicuously empty seat to his right.

Jude sighed again and made his way to the seat, trying not to look at sullen as he felt. He took the time to see who was sitting in the adjacent seats. Most were local angels and mortals, but there were some new faces. 

“Jude, who is my nephew,” Aaron said in way of introduction. “Jude this is Isaac Frontlan. He is from Manadavvi.”

Jude looked up quickly at the introduction. The man looked young, with a immaculate hair style and clothing that spoke of wealth. There was no doubting his heritage, right down to the overly suave smile pasted onto his face.

“Jude, well met,” the Manadavvi drawled. “We heard you singing: you have a marvelous voice!” Jude doubted very much that his voice was distinguishable under the web of mistakes and bad notes supplied by his partners. The compliment was expected from a Manadavvi, however.

“Thank you,” he said as politely as he could. He looked around at the dishes on the table. They were well into dessert and he took the opportunity to take a generous serving of buttered pears. The Manadavvi was unfazed and went on talking to Jude from across the table. 

“I was just telling Aaron how I knew about you,” he said, holding his wine glass idly in his hand. “And not just for being the newfound son of the Archangel.” He took a sip of his wine, more out of a wish for a dramatic pause than any real thirst.

Jude paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and narrowed his eyes at the Manadavvi. He wondered if Isaac’s family was one of those who had heard how Jude had been saved by Silas Tendler so many months ago.

“Do you remember Silas Tendler?” asked Isaac, too impatient to let Jude ask any questions. 

Jude was ashamed of how just a name could make his heart speed up and his ears turn red. He tried to hide his reaction by taking a bite of the sweet fruit. He nodded slowly, as if only half-interested in the name.

“He is back and living bold,” the man went on, surveying his nearly empty glass. A servant behind him seemed to catch the gesture and stepped forward to fill it.

“It was a great tragedy, what happened to the family,” an older woman down the table supplied. Others at the dinner made little sympathetic sounds that Jude knew were not sincere. It made him unreasonably annoyed.

“Yes,”  Isaac went on. “But it is not stopping Silas. He works like a man on a mission from Jovah. I can see great things in his future. My sister can, as well.” There was a little smirk that pulled on the corner of his mouth as he took another sip of wine.

Jude stopped eating to stare at the man. There was no denying what the Manadavvi was trying to imply: his sister was intended to marry Silas. He felt a lump rise in his throat that suddenly stifled his appetite. “He must be looking to start a family,” he said carefully, trying to mask his sudden turn of feelings.

Isaac went on, heedless. “That is what everyone is saying. He is young and full of energy. He has recovered from tragedy remarkably and his prospects on the estate are good. He has made a deal with a man from the Lower Gaza who is some kind of expert with fruits. I don’t understand any of it, myself. I rely on my dear aunt to enlighten me.” He indicated the older woman who had spoken before, who took the compliment well.

“Oh, well. My father had orchards, too,” she said, looking humble. “But Silas Tendler is keeping his projects rather quiet.”

“And his prospects are good?” Aaron asked politely, sounding only slightly interested.

“Oh yes,” Isaac answered. “I fancy we’ll be seeing a lot of him.”

Jude felt frustrated. He wanted to ask more about the sister who was trying to court Silas, not about what sort of fruit he was growing. Could it be that Silas was doing the practical thing and settling down into a marriage? The very thought of it was making Jude’s stomach turn. He looked at his pears, which had been so appetizing before. Now they looked like a bowl of mush. 

“I am feeling unwell,” Jude said suddenly. “It has been a long day. It was nice to meet you, Isaac. I hope to see you again.”

“We are sorry to lose you,” said the Manadavvi politely. “I head back to the homestead tomorrow. Shall we pay compliments to Silas Tendler for you?”

Jude managed only to nod, afraid of the words that he actually wanted to say to Silas. He stood slowly, trying to hide his discomfort. He nodded to Aaron, who can watching him carefully, and headed for the door. Regina did not try to stop him, and only watched as he passed down the hall and into the sanctuary of his room.


	17. Silas' Journey

Silas had been to every Gloria since he was born. It was not surprising: his family could afford to travel and the Plains of Sharon were not far from their estate. The roads were familiar to him and it was not difficult for him to find his way there once more.

This was the first time he travelled on horseback. He had a carriage-- Leal had insisted that he keep one for appearances-- but he refused to use one by himself. His manservant was travelling with his family, who now lived on the Tendler estate, and had left days before. This left Silas to trot along the well-used road alongside oxcarts, foot traffic and other riders.

It was a wonderful feeling to be free on the open road. With only himself to answer to he could keep his own schedule. If he wanted to stop to see a nearby cascade or roadside market, he did so. The only time restraint was the Gloria, which gave him a whole day of leisurely travel.

However, he was torn before haste and delay. On the one hand he was desperate to meet with old friends. On the other hand he was terrified to see those old friends again. The person who gave him the most anxiety, of course, was Jude.

Silas cursed himself for not forcing Jude to stay a day longer so that they could lay all of their thoughts and feelings on the table. He was desperate to know how Jude felt, because up until the angel had kissed him he was sure that his feelings were unrequited. Now he was not certain of anything--perhaps Jude had been overly emotional, which at the time was understandable. Perhaps he had kissed Silas by accident. 

_ Or he loves me. _

The only thing Silas was sure of was that Jude had made him promise to see him at the Gloria, and now he was heading there to find out exactly how the angel felt. This would be it-- either Jude loved him or not. After this, Silas would have to live with the outcome. If he did not return his love… it was because of this that Silas was not in a rush to arrive on the Plains of Sharon.

Inevitably the traffic increased as he drew nearer to the historic sight of the Gloria. People from all walks of life were filling the road to the point where it was not easily traversed. Silas was forced to slow down and eventually stop for the night. The inns and other establishments along the road were completely filled and Silas had to make camp-- something he hadn’t done since his time with the Edori. He spent the entire night feeling too warm and anxious and woke up with a worse knot in his stomach than the day before.

The Plains were even more crowded than the roads. Tents and camps had been erected directly off the road with a main thoroughfare running down the centre of the makeshift tent city. The Plains were partially encircled by mountains, once governed by the Galo mountain before Jovah smote it in the time of the false Raphael. Under the tents was a vast green plain of wildflowers and grass. The different races and peoples of Samaria were settled in separate camps and caravans that were distinguished by their banners and flags. Silas recognized the gold and green banner of Monteverde in its place of honour in the centre of the Plains, and it was towards this he headed.

Dodging children, dogs and people, Silas made his slow way across the Plains. Occasionally he would spot an angel flying overhead and he squinted to try to recognize them. Eventually one of them stopped midair, then dove towards him. He reined in his horse and wondered suddenly if he should flee.

The angel landed close enough that the horse danced away in fear before whinnying and shaking its head. Silas leapt off of the beast and flew at Hester with a one armed hug, all formality forgotten. She squeezed him so hard that he thought his collar bone would break all over again.

“Oh, Silas!” Hester said as she pulled away. She looked flushed and ready to cry. “Why did you leave us? We missed you!”

“Of course you did,” he replied with a laugh, which made her gasp in mock annoyance. “I am a gem to have at any angel hold. But who do you speak of? Is Jude with you?”

Hester frowned a pout. “He left me, too!” she said indignantly. “Went off to the Eyrie to become an Archangel. Only now the oracles have spoken. And can you guess?” She was suddenly brimming with excitement over the untold news.

“I am not going to guess, Hester,” Silas said with some exasperation. “Are you married? Pregnant?”

“As if!” she scoffed. “The next Archangel! They already know! Apparently Jovah’s real adamant about this one. It’ll be Selene, which no one is really surprised about. Did you know her? She’s perfect for the job.”

Silas let the news sink in and wondered what it would mean for Jude. The angel had been sent away to train at the Eyrie in order to be his father’s heir, whatever that meant. Selene was an angel from Cedar Hills, which meant that Jude might still be expected to lead the host at Monteverde after Herod. However, with the burden of not being Archangel lifted from his shoulders…

“How is Jude?” Silas asked then, and the secret smile that spread over Hester’s face made him uneasy. 

“He’s with the Eyrie angels,” she said. “That way.” She pointed a little way off to where the blue and silver banners flew. Silas looked at them and back to Hester. He opened his mouth as if to explain that he had to go there  _ right now _ but wasn’t sure how to politely jump back on his horse and dash off.

“Go on,” said Hester, still smiling. “I’ll see you later.” With that, she stepped backwards and launched herself into the air with a giggle.

 

Silas paid a man to hobble his horse and took a heavy bag from his saddlebag before turning towards the Eyrie encampment. There were people moving to and fro in the excitement before the morning of the Gloria. Few people chanced him a glance and no one recognized him, so he was able to push on with his bag over his good shoulder.

The largest banner flew from the biggest tent, which was also striped blue and silver. The entrance was tied wide open and several people moved in and out in the time that Silas slowly approached. He could see inside, where a round table was encircled by several chairs. A few angels had their backs to him, but one faced his direction.

He had to stop when he recognized Jude. From this distance, he could just make out his features. He was frowning in a way that he often did if he was thinking. Silas took a few steps forward, narrowly avoiding running into busybodies. He watched as Jude looked from face to face, bit his lip, and then looked towards the tent flap.

Their eyes met, and Silas felt his breath catch. Jude’s lips parted, then he suddenly blinked and looked around. He said something and a moment later he was rising from his seat and exiting the tent.

It was all Silas could do to not run over to the angel. He waited as Jude approached him a little jerkily, as if he wasn’t sure how to walk. As he grew nearer, Silas could make out the redness in his face.

“Angelo,” Silas said formally with a nod. “I see you are well.”

Jude stopped a few paces away and wet his lips in a way that said he was nervous. “Silas,” he said in way of greeting. “I didn’t know… I mean, I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

Something in Jude’s nervous manners made Silas wanted to scoop him up in his arms and nuzzle that mess of hair. He resisted and grinned instead. “You made me promise.”

Jude seemed to turn an even darker shade of red and look at the ground. “If you didn’t  _ want  _ to you didn’t  _ have  _ to.”

“And miss a chance to be with the son of the Archangel? Never!”

Jude looked up sharply and then around at the various people who were passing by.

“Sorry, sorry,” Silas laughed. “But you have to realize, knowing you had made me even more important back home now. I am going to milk that as long as possible.”

Jude scowled and started to walk away from the tent. Silas fell in step beside him, feeling, finally, like things were back to normal. He might have been satisfied with just this, but every time he looked down at the angel he had to keep himself from grabbing him.

“You haven’t changed I see,” Jude muttered, and it was hard to tell if he was actually annoyed or not. 

“Nor have you. I thought the training would have refined you, but alas…” Jude looked at him with such a glare that Silas couldn’t help but laugh. He was so happy, happier than he had been in weeks. He had missed Jude. He missed him so much his heart was in pain.

Jude was trying not to smile as he led Silas away from the heart of the camp. Other tents with blue and silver had been erected around the central one, thought smaller and meant for fewer people. One of them had been set up with a few comfortable-looking angel chairs and a small table stacked with books. The flap to the tent was open and a messy pallet was within.

“Home sweet home,” Jude mumbled, still not looking Silas in the face when he stopped at the tent.

“Better than what I have,” Silas said. He was unable to stop grinning. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.” He allowed himself to sit on one of the chairs and put his bag carefully on the ground. From here he was able to see the back of several other tents, but he could hear the voices of others just beyond their canvas. It was almost private and suddenly he felt nervous.

Jude sat down stiffly and a silence settled over them that did not help the situation. Once again, Silas was at a loss for words and struggled to remember topics of conversation. 

“So, Selene will be Archangel,” he said finally.

Jude nodded, not looking at Silas. “In 18 years. Jovah must like me because he never tells the oracles this early.” He sighed and stood up to look at the books on the little table. He picked the heaviest one up and opened it. “Aaron is still making me learn all this stuff though. I might still lead a host, I guess.”

“Do you want to?”

Jude shrugged. “Not really. But I don’t mind learning. Aaron is a good teacher and nicer than Herod.” He still didn’t call the Archangel ‘father’. He leafed through the pages before looking down at the bag that Silas had forgotten about. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” Silas said, reaching down to open the pull string. The leather bag opened to reveal bright oranges, each one small enough to fit in one’s fist. “My new crop. I have been working with a man who knew my father. He has been growing them and I convinced him to help me do the same. They are a little different, though. Sweeter.” He held one up and started to work at the peel, opening it to reveal the soft innards.

“They look tough,” Jude commented, still holding his heavy book but eyeing the orange. 

“Tough and small,” Silas agreed. “But soft and sweet on the inside, see?”  He stood up to show Jude the little fruit. He removed a piece and popped it in his mouth. It was perfect. He hesitated then and slowly raised his gaze to Jude’s. They were standing very close. “We’re calling them ‘Judes’.”

The effect was instantaneous. The angel’s entire face, ears and neck seemed to brighten with red. His eyes widened and he went very still. Silas worked out another piece of the orange and offered it to Jude. The angel suddenly struggled to close the book, but he was too slow. Silas leaned over and put the piece directly in the angel’s opened mouth. Scarlet in the face, Jude slowly chewed the fruit.

“Good, isn’t it?” Silas said in a low voice, though there was no one around.

Jude seemed to snap out of his shock and put down the book. He grabbed the orange from Silas’ grasp in embarrassment and frustration. “I can f-feed my own damn self,” he stuttered, looking down at the orange as he tried to peel the thick skin.

Silas couldn’t help it. He grabbed both of the angel’s wrists to pull them gently away from his face. Then he leaned down and kissed him. Jude slowly tilted his head back and Silas took the cue to step forward so that their bodies nearly touched. Jude’s lips tasted like the sweet orange and Silas parted his own just enough to let the tip of his tongue have a taste. Jude’s mouth opened in response and and allowed for a deep, wet kiss that lasted a few pleasant moments. When they parted, they were both breathing deeply.

“What…” Jude said in a voice scarcely more than a whisper. 

Silas wanted to laugh. “Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed like that before,” he teased in an equally quiet voice. Jude’s embarrassed silence was answer enough. Silas sighed and pulled the angel into a hug that barely missed his soft feathers. “You  _ are _ a rare dish,” he said into the angel’s hair.

“Does that mean you’re going to eat me alive?” Jude said in a pouting tone.

“Do you want me to?”

Again, Jude’s silence spoke volumes and Silas had to break the hug just to watch the angel turn a beautiful shade of scarlet. He laughed again. “Oh Jude,” he said with mirth. “I do love you!”

Jude looked at the orange in his hands and started to worry at the skin again. “I love you too,” he said in a mumbled way. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Silas had to kiss him again, because there was no other way to express the soaring in his heart. The orange fell to the ground, forgotten as they enjoyed the last few minutes of blissful privacy.


	18. the SEX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE
> 
> This is a totally unnecessary, totally smutty addition to my story because I just HAD to. 
> 
> BASICALLY THIS IS A SEX SCENE. If you want to keep to the fluff I can sum up: Silas and Jude spend a lot of time at the Tendler estate and enjoy oranges. Hah!

Jude sat across from Abidan Flurrus and practised the smiles that Aaron had been teaching him. They felt much less abnormal on his face that those he used to wear in the company of the Manadavvi. He even practised in the brass mirror in his room at the Eyrie. The key, he realized, was to actually find something in the conversation to enjoy. There were times when that was hard. In fact, this was one of those times.

Abidan was an older man and wasn’t raised in high society. This made him down-to-earth and personable. These facts didn’t stop his conversation from being the most boring that the angel had ever engaged in. The man loved to talk about agriculture, especially the nitty gritty details of raising fruit trees. The roughness of a tree’s bark and the proper way of controlling pests was so beyond Jude’s realm of interest that he could feel the smile starting to waver on his face.

He still listened, however, because he owed this much to Silas and to his father, Moses. Abidan Flurrus had been an old friend of Moses and was the reason that the Tendler estate was back on its feet. Silas had been adamant that Jude treat the old man well, because he owed him so much. 

Jude looked down the table to where Silas was in conversation with another Manadavvi man. He was all smiles too, though they seemed more genuine than Jude’s. Silas had a way of looking like he really enjoyed your company, no matter who you were. At one time Jude would have seen right through Silas’ mask of insincerity, but the young man had learned like Jude to make an effort to enjoy the conversations of those around them. Silas was wearing a real smile. He really enjoyed the man he was talking to.

This made Jude want to frown, so instead he turned his attention back to Abidan, who was talking of oranges again. The man Silas was talking to was the eldest son of Lord Irvine and he was very suave. He reminded Jude of Silas in a way, and while Jude tolerated the man, Silas got along with him far too well.

Jude was jealous, but rather than making him competitive, it drove him to pouting and sulking, something Aaron would have scolded him for. He was looking forward to the young Master Irvine’s departure, the very next morning. He focused for the time on being a good friend to Silas, talking with his acquaintances and humouring old men.

“In fact,” Abidan was saying. “I think it’s about time we treat our guests to some of those Jude’s, eh Silas?” Jude felt a little flutter in his chest at the name of the oranges. Most people assumed Silas had named them that in honour of the angel’s promotion as son of the Archangel. Jude knew better.

Silas motioned to the manservant that attended their table and he walked off briskly, returning a moment later with one of the kitchen staff and two large silver bowls filled with freshly peeled oranges. They placed one on either end of the long table that sat 8 people. When Jude reached for one of the oranges, his eyes met a grinning Silas.

Jude smiled back in a hesitant way, because he sensed mischief in that face. When he split apart the orange on his plate, sweet aroma filled the air. The angel dropped his gaze on the orange and suddenly felt another jolt in his chest. He breathed in deeply and felt his body flush in response. He froze before raising a piece of orange to his mouth.

Silas was watching him curiously, and Jude quickly put the orange in his mouth. He chewed quickly and swallowed, all the while not making eye contact with anyone. His body was continuing to respond poorly and Jude fought this sudden rush of feeling. 

It was the smell, he realized. It had been a long time since he had actually eaten any of these oranges. The only times he had smelled them in the last month had been…

He bit his lip and tried to steady his breath. Visions of nights past were starting to fill his mind. He could remember the taste of the smooth orange skin in his mouth, muffling his voice and filling his nose with its sweet smell. He could remember the sensation of two hands searching his body before finding special places that made him respond in arousal. The first night, Silas had popped the orange in Jude’s mouth because the angel had been too loud for their tent. After that, it was almost a game to Silas. He liked to give Jude an orange every time, and Jude accepted it because there wasn’t anything Silas wanted that he didn’t want to give him.

The unfortunate outcome was that Jude couldn’t smell the oranges now without remembering his nights with Silas. The memory was so strong that-- damn! He crossed his legs under the table and willed himself to stop thinking about it.

When Jude looked up nervously, Silas was all but staring at him while slowly eating his own orange. He was half listening to Master Irvine and half watching Jude with too much interest. 

Jude swallowed hard and took a breath to compose himself. “I’m afraid I’ve had too much for the night,” he said politely. “I may need to turn in early.”

“No,” said Silas with his smile, “Do stay, Jude! We are all enjoying your company far too much.” 

Jude looked at Silas narrowly. Was it just him, or did the young man seem to completely understand the situation? Did he see the state that the angel was in? If so, then why not spare Jude the awkwardness?

“Have another orange, Jude. They are your namesake after all!” Silas tossed an orange to Jude which the angel barely caught. 

Silas knew full well what was happening, all right. He knew, and he was loving it. Jude made a solemn oath to himself to make Silas pay for this.

It was 20 more minutes of uncomfortable conversation for Jude. He made an effort to resume talking to Abidan, but the old man wanted to talk of the tough exterior and sweet flesh of the orange. “Perfect mouth-size too, don’t you think?” It was almost too much for Jude to bare. 

“Well, we know Jude loves them,” Silas agreed, still smiling in his knowing way. Jude could have throttled him across the table. 

“Oh, do you, angelo?”

Jude forced a smile to Abidan. “They are… delightful.”

When the party finally stood from the table, Jude excused himself again and took an inconspicuous way out of the dining room. The other guests were going to tour the orchards with Abidan and Silas, and it was not too difficult to get away with some dignity.

Jude had made it halfway down a dimly lit hallway when he was stopped by a hand. Silas had him by the arm and pulled to face him. The summer sun had nearly set and the gas lamps had been lit just before they left dinner. In this light, Silas looked mysterious.

“You are a jerk,” Jude said in more than a whisper. “You know that?”

For all that Jude was serious, Silas still laughed. “I’m sorry!” he said happily. “I mean, I’m sorry for how you feel. For me it was too much to resist. Not that I fully understand what was happening. I take it there was something to do with the oranges…”

“You know full well,” Jude said, letting some of his frustration vent. “The only time I smell those damn things is…” He felt his face get hot again. “You know!”

Silas stepped towards Jude, which made the angel fall back to the wall. He felt his wings brush the new wooden paneling. Silas held something up between their faces and Jude realized at once that it was another orange, this time unpeeled.

“So, let me get this right,” Silas said in a slow, quiet voice meant just for Jude. “When you smell these, you become aroused?” Jude felt his whole body get warm and was unable to reply. Silas had figured it out after all, and there was nothing else to say about it. 

“Open your mouth.”

“What?” Jude said louder than he meant to. Silas hushed him in a laughing way, and Jude went on in a whisper. “Silas, you have guests to attend to!”

“It takes an hour to tour the grounds. The servants are busy in the kitchen. Leal is clearing the dining room.” His free hand found the back of Jude’s neck, worked down his shoulder, and then up one length of wing. The gently touch made the angel quiver. As if encouraged, Silas ran his fingers down the spread of feathers.

There was a reason it was impolite to touch an angel’s wings. They were so sensitive that it was akin to brushing someone’s lips. For Jude, it was even worse. A small sound issued from his throat that he stifled as quickly as he could. 

“And that is why we need the oranges,” Silas said with a grin. “Because you are too damn noisy. Not that I mind,” He paused to run his hands along the wing again. Jude actually moaned this time before clapping and hand over his mouth. “But I think the servants might.”

This time he ran his hand over Jude’s lips, tempting them to part slightly. When they did, he lightly touched the tip of the tongue before putting two fingers in the hot mouth and forcing it open. Jude moaned a little protest as a dribble of spit worked down Silas’ finger and hand. When he put the orange in instead, it was warm from Silas’ touch. 

“Now, about this problem of yours,” Silas went on in almost a gentle way. He looked down at Jude’s formal shirt and pulled it slowly from his pants. “Hold this,” he instructed quietly, and Jude held the shirt up, exposing his stomach. Two hands felt their way over his skin and rested on his hips. Then they trailed along the top of his pants to the strings that held them up. He worked them loose and edged them down and over the bulge at Jude’s crotch.

“How long have you been hard?” Silas asked, though he couldn’t have expected an answer. “Since the oranges came out, I suppose. That’s a long time to sit in agony. I am sorry, Jude.” His face was very close to the angels, so close that his lips occasionally brushed his forehead. His tone was deep and slow, like molasses. Jude could feel himself going to pieces over that voice. “Do you want some help?”

Jude whimpered a little, because it was the only noise he could make. Silas breathed in, as if that small sound gave him pleasure. Then he pulled out Jude’s hard cock and began to work his way up and down the shaft with two hands.

Jude moaned against the hard little orange and felt his knees go weak. The hand that wasn’t holding his shirt went to Silas’ where he grabbed a handful of fabric. Sitting aroused for 20 minutes meant that it wasn’t long before he was going to climax. He rocked his hips slightly, moving into Silas’ hands. 

Suddenly Silas released him and stepped back. His own face was flushed and his lips slightly parted. “Turn around,” he said in a breathless way. Jude did not hesitate to oblige him and turned so that his hands were against the paneled wall. He stretched his wings out as Silas impatiently pulled Jude’s pants entirely off. Jude heard the sound of rustling then the  _ pop  _ of a cork that told him that Silas had somehow come prepared

When the sticky finger entered him, Jude was glad for the orange. It muffled sounds of surprise, and eventually of pleasure. Silas’ hands were nearly as good at working his ass as stroking his cock. It was a routine they were starting to get used to, and Jude was enjoying it far more than he ever thought he would.

It wasn’t long, however, before Silas himself entered. His long cock matched his height and it took a moment to push all the way in. The slow process had Jude curling his toes and moaning pathetically. He wanted to tell Silas to hurry up, but he was too busy holding the wall to take the orange out of his dripping mouth.

The thrusts came slowly at first as Silas pulled all the way out and then laboriously back in. The next time was only a moment faster. Each time Jude let out a little sound that apparently encouraged Silas to go faster. By the time he was thrusting in and out as a steady pace Jude was at the end of his rope. 

All it took was a hand to reach around and grasp his cock for Jude to come spilling all over the new hardwood floors, narrowly missing a Lumineux-made carpet. His muffled cries lasted while Silas pumped him a few more times before becoming ridged himself. The Manadavvi let out a long sigh of pleasure before nearly falling on top of Jude’s body. Unable to hold up either of them, Jude sank to the floor and Silas clumsily pulled out and away from him.

A line of spittle followed the orange as Jude pulled it out of his mouth. “You jerk,” he muttered in between heavy pants. It made Silas laugh again and eventually Jude had to smile too. “I love you.” he said softly.

Silas shuffled his body to sit next to the angel. Still recovering, he patted his lover heavily on the head. “I love you, too.”


End file.
